Beauty and the Beast
by Always Hopeful
Summary: Crossover HP and Beauty and the Beast. Because of a spell cast by Grindlewald just before his death, Albus was transformed into a hideous beast. Who could ever learn to love a beast?
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything dealing with Harry Potter or Beauty and the Beast. They both belong to J.K. Rowling and Walt Disney respectively.**

**A/N: I know that I've got a lot of other fics in progress, but I can't help it. I must be as close to ADD as you can get without actually being diagnosed with it. Haha. Thanks for reading, though. Hope you guys like this, though.**

**Chapter One: Prologue…**

"Show yourself!" The command was loud and clear as it rang out upon the vast and hallow land. There was utter silence. Nothing could be heard. Not the songs of the birds or the whisper of the wind. Mist lay heavily in the air, disrupting ones view. The scent of the mist mixed violently with that of the rotting flesh upon the ground. Battle was a cruel thing, indeed. It seemed as though no one knew this as well as the man who stood there, ready to fight. His blue eyes, usually twinkling and bright, were now dimmed as he squinted in an attempt to see through the fog.

"I said, 'Show yourself'!" he commanded yet again. There was the sound of a snapping twig behind him. He turned quickly, wand held out. He could only see his opponent's outline, but he knew who he was. Neither one moved, nor did they say a word. Then…

"Why don't you simply accept my offer?" the figure asked. Albus lowered his wand, but remained ever ready. He sighed.

"Because it is an offer I do not feel is worth accepting," he replied.

"Is that an honest answer, Albus, or do you only say it because it is expected of you?" the dark figure asked. Albus could tell the figure was smiling.

"I think you know the answer to that, Grindlewald," said Albus. The shadowy figure stepped closer, the mist swirling about him. It wasn't until he was in full view that he finally stopped. By now he was a mere four or five feet from Albus.

"Do I?" he asked. Albus said nothing as he stared at the man in front of him. "Come now, Albus. Join us-nay, join ME- and together we can rule over the entire wizarding world." Albus shook his head. For a long time, now,Grindlewald had tried desperately to get Albus on his side. But every time Albus would refuse.

"No, Grindlewald, I will not join you. Our ideals are just too different." Grindlewald raised an eyebrow at this.

"Are they really?" he inquired. Albus sighed.

"Enough cat and mouse, Grindlewald," he huffed. "I don't believe we'll get anywhere." His enemy frowned.

"Fine! If you will not join me, then we have only one choice." As quick as a flash Grindlewald had pulled out his wand and called a spell. Albus deflected the spell easily and called out a spell of his own. This went on a while, both growing more and more tired as the hours flew by. Then…

"Avada Kedavera!"

"Eliando!"

The two spells flew through the air at their intended targets. The green killing curse hit Grindlewald square in the chest while the silver Eliando spell hit Albus in the stomach, causing him to fall to the ground. He felt the air rush from his lungs and a strange, tingling feeling coursed through his body.

'What is this?' he wondered. With a great strength he didn't know he had, Albus painfully forced himself up onto his elbow and stared at his opponent. As the green light faded, he knew it was over. Yes, Grindlewald was finally dead. Albus laid his head back upon the ground with a rather loud thump.

Oh, how he wanted to just fall asleep right here and now. But the pain of the unknown spell, combined with a little common sense, stopped him from doing so. With a deep breath, he created a portkey and vanished.

Ooooooooooo

It was one-thirty the following morning when Madam O'Hara, Hogwarts' school medi-witch, finished her research. She looked sympathetically at the slowly changing figure in front of her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of what her findings meant. Standing up, she walked to the end of his bed. She had always gotten along well with Albus. She supposed they could even be called friends. That is why she felt so sorry for him. After all, the poor man had already been through so much and it appeared as though he weren't done.

"Well, Adrianna?" Madam O'Hara looked up to her left as she heard the whisper and saw Armondo Dippet walking towards her.

"It doesn't look good, Headmaster," replied. She sighed as she looked back down at Albus' sleeping form. Armondo gasped as he came to rest beside the school medi-witch. The moonlight fell upon the man (if he could still be called a man) asleep on the cot. Albus' auburn hair had grown considerably. The problem was that the hair had not been restricted solely to his had and face, but his arms, legs, hands, feet, and chest as well. The man himself seemed to have grown a few inches. And his fingernails-were they resembling claws? And his teeth-were they fangs now?

"What is this magic?" he breathed.

"The Eliando curse," Madam O'Hara replied. Armondo frowned.

"The Black Heart curse?" he asked, referring to the spell's common name. O'Hara nodded. "Then why isn't it having its usual effects?" O'Hara straightened her glasses.

"As you know, this spell is meant to make the intended victim switch to the dark side." Armondo nodded, keeping his gaze upon his friend. "In this case, Grindlewald wanted Albus to go to his side. The most effective way to complete this spell is through the heart."

"So Grindlewald called this spell in the hopes of turning Albus against us and then joining forces with him." He concluded. O'Hara nodded again.

"No doubt he acknowledged Albus' ability and strength and decided an alliance would be perfect. If he had managed to hit Albus through the heart, it would have only been a matter of minutes before Albus turned himself and taken Grindlewald's place." Armondo's head snapped up.

"If?" he asked.

"Fortunately for us, the spell hit Albus in the stomach. This slowed the process considerably. And something odd began to happen. I'm sure you've noticed the patches of hair." Armondo nodded solemnly. "Something in that spell is transforming Albus into a beast. I think it's symbolic."

"Symbolic how?" asked Armondo.

"Think about it, Headmaster," she continued. "From my research, I've managed to deduce that once the physical transformations occur, his emotional and mental deformation will quicken. Then, there will be no stopping him. Now, he may not chose to attack people like Grindlewald did, but he will still be a deeply troubled man. He will lash out at anyone, he won't know friend from foe, and he will never be himself." Armondo sighed, keeping his eyes upon his friend yet again.

"Is there no anecdote?" he queried. His heart was aching. Albus had been his best friend for years. There was no way Albus would remain the same again. His heart lifted slightly at Madam O'Hara's next words.

"There is a slight chance," she said. "It's small, it's cliché, but it's our only hope."

"What is that?" the headmaster asked quickly. The medi-witch sighed and cast a quick glance at her patient.

"True love," she said. At Armondo's questioning glance, she continued. "He must find someone who he can love and who will love him as he is." Armondo appeared crestfallen. To find one's true love was incredibly hard. Not everyone found their true love. It was hard enough in human state, let alone as a beast. He looked at the form of his best friend.

"Is there a time limit?" His heart fell when he heard O'Hara reply 'yes'. He closed his eyes, attempted to swallow the lump in his throat, and opened them again, seeing his friend lying pitifully on the bed. "How long?"

"Not long," O'Hara replied. She wrapped her arms around herself. "I'd say a year at best. The last month or two will be the hardest. He'll be cruel, cold, and unforgiving. Unless someone…" She let the rest of the statement hang in the air. Armondo nodded. O'Hara then bid the headmaster a goodnight and left. Armondo walked to the side of the bed, pat Albus' rather fury shoulder, and sighed.

"Good luck, my friend," he said. "You'll find someone to love, I promise. Until then, I fear the school must close and the students be redirected to other schools for the next school year. I don't relish having to explain this to you in the morning. Good night, dear friend."

But as he left the hospital wing, Albus opened his eyes. There was no need for an explanation. He had heard it all. He sat up slowly and looked at his arms, hands, and chest. They really were hairy. Could this really be happening to him? He looked to the side table and saw a blue hand mirror facing down. Shaking slightly, he picked up the mirror. When he gazed at his reflection, he could not stop a tear falling from his eye. True, he had never thought he was devastatingly handsome. But he had hoped to be married one day. Who would marry him now?

The mirror slipped from his hand and fell onto his lap. Then, for the first time in a long time, Albus Dumbledore cried. For the first time since he could remember, he was lost, helpless. He would never have kids or grandkids, which he wanted so badly. He would never know the loving touch of a woman, nor would he experience any of the joys known to two people in love. And he could never expect a woman to love him.

For who could ever learn to love a beast?

**A/N2: Okay, I just thought I would post this finally. I wrote this yesterday, but wanted to finish another story first. Hehe. Thanks so very much for reading and reviewing… Always Hopeful**


	2. Minerva

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything dealing with Harry Potter and I highly doubt I ever shall own it. Le Sigh!**

**A/N: I just wanted to say that I'm on a roll here and that is why I have been updating a lot lately. Well not a lot, but frequently. LOL! Hope you like this chapter. And I also wanted to say sorry for making you wait long for this update. I promise to try and lessen the time between updates of each fic. Remember, I said TRY! LOL.**

**Chapter Two: Minerva…**

_Ten Months Later…_

Minerva walked through the streets of England. She wanted to hurry through town and get back home. Her father, Aires McGonagall, was working on something which he swore would change their lives forever. She did not know what it was, but she was sure it had something to do with the breakthrough in Transfiguration that he has been babbling about for the past six weeks.

Now, Minerva loved her father. True, he was considered to be a bit eccentric at times, but he was the best father in the world, and her only living relative. She would do anything for him. Ever since her mother had died years ago, they had formed a strong bond that no one could break.

She walked through the crowded wizard-filled streets of London and suddenly felt very self-conscious. Some months ago, when they had first moved to London, she had noticed the others, both wizards and muggles alike, would look at her in an odd sort of way. At first, she attributed it to the fact that she was new and people, being human beings, were inherently interested in new people. But when the looks and the whispered conversations behind counters and hands ceased to stop, she could not help but wonder what they were so curious about? Why must they constantly point at her and her father whenever they walked down the streets?

"Odd…" "Different…" "Strange…" "Peculiar…" These were some of the most common words which would stick out whenever she managed to catch a tiny particle of their conversations. She was not odd and she was offended that they would even suggest such a thing. She was not odd and neither was her father. They were just your every day common witch and wizard.

Who were they to call her different? Who were they to say that she was different? Perhaps she was not the most beautiful of women, but certainly she had a few redeeming qualities about her person. So what if she _was_ a little different from most women? So what if she preferred the comfort of her own home in her library, which contained the few books she owned? So what if she did not care a lick about fashion or what was considered to be all the rage? She was Minerva McGonagall, and she prided herself in the fact that fashion did not rule her life.

Now, don't get her wrong. She liked looking good from time to time. She was, after all, a woman; and inside every woman is a little need to indulge in the idea that perhaps they have some beauty. The difference in women, however, lies in how much of that need is there and how willing a single woman is willing to indulge in that need. Let it be known that while she did take care to look decent, Minerva McGonagall was not one to do so in a vain attempt to catch the eye of a man. She did not need a man in her life, though she knew eventually she would like to have husband. But right now, it was not necessary to her life.

She walked by more people who, in turn, stared at her and seemed to speak about her. There were a few who had befriended her, but none were the sort of people whom she would confide her deepest, innermost thoughts to. They were all kind to her, but few would offer her more than a nod as they passed her on the street. This suited her, she supposed. At least this way she would not have to take part in a conversation that was, as some people liked to call it, 'phony'.

There was one place, however, that she felt the most comfortable. Her feet quickly led her down the path which she was most familiar with. It was a route which she had taken numerous times since she and her father had arrived some months ago. It was a path which led directly from their house, which rested near the outskirts of London, to the large building in the center of town. It was a brown building which was set discreetly away from the streets. Minerva had almost passed it the first time she was looking around. She might have, too, if the old wizard who owned it had not come out and insisted on welcoming her to the city. Minerva had thanked him and had every intention of moving on when he had invited her in to see his book store. And thus it had begun.

Since that day, Minerva had made it a habit of going down to the book store at least once a week, though she usually went two or three times if she could. She constantly went there in the hopes of borrowing a book and returning it. She had little money and was only able to buy books on occasion. The owner, who had taken a liking to Minerva almost immediately, had quickly learned of her likes and dislikes and, therefore, made it a point to refer different books to her. Whenever he received a new shipment of books, especially ones on Transfiguration and its theories, she was the first one he called.

Minerva now entered the small shop and felt a sudden sense of relief when she heard the little bell ring. That was a sound which was most pleasing to her ears. It was the sound she heard every time she entered one of the few havens she had in this town. Where normally she felt awkward and outside the realm of human normality, she enjoyed the sensation she felt every time she heard the tinkling sound of the bell. It was a sound of coming home, in an odd way.

"Ah, Mademoiselle," said the old man behind the counter. Minerva smiled as she looked at the man who was the closest thing to a friend that she had in this town. He was a French wizard, somewhat bent over with age. He carried a walking stick at his side. With white hair and bottle cap glasses, he looked like the kind of man one would hope to have as a grandfather. When he grinned, you could see mostly gums with two or three teeth sticking out. Minerva did not know what had happened to his teeth, but she did not dare ask. It was rude to ask and she knew it. The man was currently sitting behind a counter. But with Minerva's entrance, he stood and, grabbing his came in his right hand, limped his way around the counter and down the two steps to greet her. "Are you back already?" Minerva laughed.

"Yes, I am," she said. She pulled out a tattered old book from the pockets of her robes and handed it to him. "This book was marvelous. Thank you for referring it to me. I might have missed it otherwise." The man bowed his head slightly in recognition of her praise.

"It was nothing at all, mademoiselle," he said, his French accent thick. "I am glad that you found it to be satisfactory. It is just so incredible, really. No other woman in this town reads more than one or two books a year, if that, and here, mademoiselle, you have finished an entire novel of four hundred pages in a mere two days."

"Actually, I finished it yesterday," Minerva smiled. "I just did not have the time to come back. I felt it too frivolous to come here twice in one day. Besides, I had things I had to take care of at home." The man nodded.

"You work so hard for a girl of merely twenty five. Have you no friends you can spend time with? Or perhaps a beau of some sorts?" The man's eyes twinkled as he said that last part and he raised an eyebrow. She laughed.

"Sadly, no," she replied. "Most of the other women leave me alone. And as for a beau? Well, let's just say that they are more interested in the women who leave me alone." The man sighed.

"It is such a pity, really. You are such a beautiful young woman. Why, if I were younger, I would chase about you myself," he chuckled, winking at her. She laughed as well. A melodious sound indeed.

"Why thank you, Messiuer Dupont. You flatter me, as always. Might I take a look around?" He waved his arm as though he were showing her his shop for the first time.

"But of course," he said. "Be my guest. Take as long as you need, as always."

"Thank you," she replied. She browsed a bit before finding a large red book. She smiled as she pulled it from its shelf. This was the one she wanted. The Secret Garden was one of her favorite books. True, it was not a book on Transfiguration, but she just could not help herself. The idea that there is a magic which runs deeper than the kind that is found in a wand sends her heart flying. She would never admit to such a thing out loud, but she did enjoy the occasional fictional story. Even, perhaps, a little romance. But for now, Messiuer Dupont was the only one in the village, her father included, who knew of her interest in romance. Smiling, she took the book to the counter.

Ooooooooooo

"Stupify!" Within a matter of seconds, the bird flying high in the sky came crashing down at the assassin's right foot. He looked to his comrade and nodded his head, indicating that the latter pick it up for him. The second man, who was much shorter and younger and had a rat like demeanor, scurried towards the bird and picked it up, shrinking it down and placing it in a damask sack containing thirty some-odd similar birds. He cowered before the first man.

"That was another fantastic shot, Tom," he praised. "This proves that without a doubt, you are possibly the greatest hunter and killer in our world." Tom smiled his brilliant smile, his black hair neatly combed and his robes ever immaculate.

"Of course I am, Pettigrew," he sniffed. Peter Pettigrew looked everywhere but in his friend's eyes. He may follow Tom anywhere, but he was still rather scared of him. "I am a Riddle. I was bound to be a hunter from the beginning." He polished his wand as he said this. Peter nodded. Just then, three women, who were known for their loose nature, passed by him. He smiled broadly at them and they giggled. Oh, how Peter envied Tom's ability to flirt with women.

"Hello, Tom," said one of them. She was a red-head scantily clad in what could barely be called a dress. She walked up to him and placed her hand upon his arm. "What have you been up to?" She ran her arms up and down his arm as he continued to smile at her.

"Thinking of you, Rebecca," he replied smoothly. She giggled again.

"Is that right?" she asked, nudging him. He nodded. "Well if that is true, why have we not seen you these past few weeks at the tavern? We're beginning to think you do not delight in our company anymore." She pouted as he grinned.

"I am sorry, Rebecca, but I am very busy." Rebecca continued to pout.

"It's that girl again, isn't it? That Minerva? Why do you spend all your time attempting to win her affections, which she clearly does not wish to give you, when you could have ours?" She indicated herself and the other two girls, one of whom was twirling her brown hair and the other who was biting her bottom lip, her blond hair in curls.

"Yes, it is Minerva," Tom replied, his lip now curling up in a sneer. He removed her hand from his arm. "And she is no girl. She is a lovely woman, and I would thank you not to speak ill of her." The woman huffed and rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Tom, she does not love you."

"She will love me," Tom commanded. He towered over her and she cowered in fear. "Minerva will love me and respect me, as any woman would. You shall see… She will be mine." With that, he turned on his heel and left. "Pettigrew!" He snapped his fingers and Peter followed close on his heel. They walked for a few minutes before Tom stopped and placed his arm in front of Peter, halting him in his tracks. Peter looked up at him.

"What is it, Tom?" he asked, his rat nose sniffing the air. Tom nodded towards the bookstore, where Minerva was currently walking out.

"Thank you, Messiuer," she was saying to the kind, elderly gentlman.

"Any time at all, mademoiselle," he replied. Tom grinned. Good, she was here. Just the person he needed to talk with. As Minerva began to walk away from the bookstore, she caught sight of him. Clearing her throat a bit and pursing her lips, she opened her new book and began to walk down the street. She refused to meet his gaze as she walked past him, even though it was clear that he was about to say something to her. He stopped himself and looked at her, looked back at Peter, and then chased after her.

"Hello, Minerva," he said, placing his arm around her shoulders. She shrugged it off.

"Hello, Tom," she replied. He tried again, this time placing his arm around her waist.

"I see you have just visited the bookstore again," he said. She still refused to look at him as she continued to purse her lips.

"You are very observant, indeed," she said. He grabbed the book from her, despite her better efforts to retrieve it from him. He looked the book over in his left hand.

"The Secret Garden?" he questioned. He snorted before giving it back to her. "Not much for a good read, I'd say."

"Well that is what you say," she hissed, pushing his arm away from her waist and running ahead by a few paces. He quickly caught up with her.

"Now, why don't we put books aside and talk about going to the Annual London Ball in two months? All of the great witches and wizards are going to be there. What do you say?"

"No thank you, Tom. I'll be busy that night." She continued to walk, this time her book tucked securely underneath her right arm and her head facing straight ahead.

"But that is a whole two months away," he protested. "You cannot honestly tell me that you have every day of the next two months planned."

"I most certainly can and I most certainly do," was Minerva's short retort. "My father is going to a convention this weekend and if all goes according to plan then we shall be moving to France so that he might continue his study with some of the most brilliant Transfiguration specialists in the world, and I shall be going with him." Tom stepped in front of her and placed a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"You might be leaving?" he asked, concerned. "You can't do that!" She pushed his hand off her shoulder and stared at him defiantly.

"Watch me," she said, shoving past him. He growled.

"Why do you spurn me so?" he asked, following her. "I offer you love and you push it aside. I offer you poetry and a lifetime security, and yet you answer me with acid. Why?" Minerva spun around and looked at him.

"I do not appreciate being accused of being so heartless," she responded. "I cannot help that I do not love you in the way you seem to be fascinated with me. Do not say that I spurned you. Now if you'll excuse me, I must get back to my father." With that, she turned around and pushed through the crowd which had stopped to stare and made her way toward the house she shared with her father, leaving a stunned Tom Riddle in her wake.

**A/N2: I hope you guys liked it. So sorry it took so long to update this story. I'll see when I can update again. But I did stay up till 11:30 to finish it for you, so I hope you guys liked it. Read long and prosper. Always Hopeful**


	3. A Breakthrough

**Disclaimer: I own nothing and therefore I deserve none of the credit for these characters. I mean, how could I when J.K. Rowling is the genius behind their creation?**

**A/N: I just wanted to say thank you for reading thus far and for being so patient for this update. As you authors out there know, inspiration does not come easily, and therefore we are not always able to think of something ingenious to write. I mean, I can't always think coherently enough to speak, let alone write for a story that is supposed to have some singular plot line. I'm lucky that I don't take a chapter to my Beauty and the Beast story and post it on my "A Happily Ever After" story. LOL! And this rant has gone on long enough and I am sure most of you, by now, have just skipped to the story, so I'll let the rest of you go. You know, the few who are nice enough to put up with my insanity. Hahaha.**

**Chapter Three: A Breakthrough…**

Aires McGonagall was a rather… odd gentleman. At least, that was the consensus from most of the men and women who met him. If one ever had a conversation with him, the word 'odd' was often replaced with the more crude forms of the word, such as 'insane', 'eccentric', and, the ever popular 'lunatic'. He was viewed as the crazy man of the small town in England (which lay not too far from the hustle and bustle of London), often times being referred to as the wizard's "Don Quixote", a man forever chasing after windmills which he viewed as giants. The only things crazier than Aires McGonagall, in everyone else's minds, were his ideas on the matter of Transfiguration. His ideas were truly absurd.

And the most absurd idea of all, at least in the minds of the men, was the idea he held of women in the field of Transfiguration- and every other workplace, for that matter. Aires believed women should be encouraged to think for themselves and to compete with men in any field they wished to pursue, including the ministry. Men, and sometimes women, though him a radical. "This is a man's world," many would say. "There is no room for a woman in our world." This spurned many debates between Aires McGonagall and the many men folk of the town. Most debates ended in one or both parties feeling absolutely enraged and angered by what the other one had to say.

Now, Aires was generally an even-tempered man. At five foot seven, he was not really a very tall man by most standards. His piercing green eyes managed to see everything, and his head was still a thick, beautiful shade of black, despite his old age. It actually looked very dignified, with specks of grey on his temples. Overall, he was a very good looking man. In fact, a few women even found him attractive. But he had not dated since his wife had died several years earlier. But he did not mind. He was thoroughly engrossed in his work. That was fine by him.

But since he had a very progressive view of things, he was very seldom accepted by those around him. He was alienated from his neighbors in much the same way that Minerva was thought peculiar for her views. In fact, she had very few people with whom she could talk to. Men feared she might be just as odd in her thinking as her father was and women thought her looks were a complete waste. Why should someone with such a beautiful face have such bizarre and ridiculous ideas? It just was not right-not right at all.

Minerva contemplated all this as she made her way towards the house she shared with her father, which rested somewhat apart from the others. Actually, it was located about a mile or so outside of London, not precisely _in_ London, away from the others. It was all very symbolic, and ironic, she thought. Perhaps it was all for the best, she thought. After all, they did alright for themselves. And the less her father heard, the better. He was having enough trouble as it was coping with the ugly rumors being spread. There was no need to add insult to injury.

When Minerva reached their house, she smiled. It was a nice little house with a small pond to one side and chickens on the other side. She never understood her father's affinity for chickens, but she did not really care. So long as they made him happy, she did not care. Besides, they might come in handy if the local stores suddenly decided they would rather lose a customer then to serve Aires McGonagall. The outside was covered with lattice vines, all enchanted by Minerva herself to never die. She liked the way it looked on the house, so she wanted it to look good all year-even in the winter. As the thought of winter crossed her mind, Minerva looked up at the sky, smiled, closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply. It was mid-October. Winter would be here soon and snow would soon fall. She loved the snow. She loved the way the earth seemed so fresh and clean with a thick blanket of powdered snow on the ground. Just the thought of it was enough to make her smile. She opened her eyes again and stared. Soon enough, she told herself. Soon enough. She could not wait.

As her smile broadened, she walked towards the house once more. Who cares what everyone thought? She had her father and he had her. What else could she possibly need or want? Walking into the house, she pulled off her cloak and hung it on the coat rack.

"Father, I'm home!" she called out. He did not answer. She quirked a brow. No lights were on, now was the fireplace lit. And it was getting dark. Books were scattered about the living room floor and table. She shook her head. She would bet ten galleons that he was shut away in his study, pouring over those ancient texts again. He needed to stop working so hard, she thought. He would dig himself into an early grave if he wasn't careful.

She pulled out her wand and with a few graceful flicks of her wrist the books were organized, things were set in their proper places, the lights were on, and a fire roared to life in the hearth. 'There,' she thought. 'Much better.' Satisfied that, for the moment, anyhow, things were set where they belonged, she made her way to the kitchen. Knowing her father as she did, he had not allowed himself a break since she'd left the house hours ago.

She was right, of course. The moment she had entered the kitchen, she noted the clean stove, cold cauldron, and empty sink. Not even a spoon or a glass was out of place. Things were just the way she had left them that morning. Spotless. Had her father even thought to stop to eat, the kitchen would no doubt look like the living room had. Sighing, she shook her head and went to the stove. She lit it and began busying herself with making dinner. She often joked about her father being more of a pet than a person. If she wasn't there to feed and care for him, he was liable to pass out from lack of care. She also tended to refer to him as a child sometimes. You could not leave a child alone and you could not leave Aires McGonagall alone. At least not for very long.

She was halfway through dinner (corned beef and cabbage… her father's favorite) when the kitchen door opened and she smelled her father's familiar scent of oak wood and something like musk but not quite. She smiled.

"Hello, Da'," she said, not once looking up from stirring the cabbage. He merely grunted as he walked by her and patted her shoulder. He must have been deep in thought, she mused, as he was really much warmer than that. He went to the refrigerator and mindlessly opened it, not really seeming to see anything. She walked over and closed it.

"Oh," he muttered mindlessly, nearly coming out of his reverie and backing up a few steps.

"Not now, Da'. I'm making dinner." He nodded, nearly slipping back into his train of thought. She tried to catch his attention.

"I went to the bookstore today," she said as she walked back to the stove.

"Oh you did?" he asked mindlessly as he sat at the table. She nodded.

"Yes, and I managed to haggle a free book out of the visit," she smiled. There was silence. She looked back at him and he was staring at the flowers in the middle of the table. He mindlessly moved his fingers through the bouquet. She sighed and turned back to the cabbage, shaking her head slightly.

"Minerva, do you think all my theories, all my time, are going to waste?" The abrupt question was spoken softly and yet it had a painful impact upon Minerva. She almost felt as though she had been struck a horrible slap to the face instead of having her father ask a simple question. She looked at him before looking back to the cabbage.

"Of course not, Da'," she responded. "What makes you think that?" There was silence for a few moments before he answered.

"Oh, I don't know. I just suppose I am growing older and, as a result, am growing tired of all the rumors and gossip floating around about me. That's all, my child." Minerva felt her heart ache when she heard him speak like this. He was a smart man who would do great things. She was sure of this. She wiped her hands on her apron (she tried to use her magic as little as possible, unless she were really tired) and made her way to him, saying those exact things to him. He smiled at her, reaching out his hand for hers. She smiled in return.

"I knew I could count on you, my darling Rosebud." He had taken to calling her Rosebud since she was a little girl and could not quite get himself to stop using the term of endearment. She didn't mind. It made her feel closer with her father. Sighing once more, he stood, stretched, and walked towards the door, rubbing his back. "Well, my plans are awaiting me. If I'm ever going to figure out how to get that tablet ready for the Transfiguration Convention tomorrow, I am going to need to work all night, possibly." Minerva frowned. He was not young anymore and should not be working all night-not even for his invention. Aires had been working incredibly hard on a theory for years. He was attempting to prove that wizards younger than the age of twenty five could learn the technique of the animagi without being harmed in the process. Even Minerva had agreed to help, but they had not been able to find a way to prove it just yet.

"Wait, you are going to eat, aren't you?" she asked. "You need your strength." He turned to look at her and smiled.

"I'm sorry, Rosebud, but I simply don't have-," He stopped mid sentence, his eyes bulged out, and he gasped. He grasped at his hair and smiled, looking at Minerva. "That's it! That is IT!!!!" he exclaimed. He ran to her, laughing joyously before he hugged Minerva tightly, pulling her into his embrace before pulling away and doing an odd sort of jig. "Oh, my little Rosebud, you are a genius!" Without another word, he let go of her and ran out of the kitchen, leaving Minerva to feel overjoyed and confused at the same time. Deciding she needed to see what he had gotten himself into, she followed him.

Ooooooooooo

Minerva entered her father's study to find him at the muggle chalkboard. She did not see why he loved muggle things so much, but her love for him stopped her from asking. He was scribbling fiercely upon the board and making happy noises as he did so. After a few moments, he pulled back to admire his handiwork before he uttered a cry of joy. He looked at her.

"Aha! Minerva, my Rosebud, come here and be the first to witness my amazing breakthrough!" he shouted. She went to the blackboard and looked where he pointed. She stared at it until the impact of what he had written hit her fully. Her eyes bulged out of her head, much as his had earlier, and she her mouth dropped open.

"Could it really be that simple?" she asked.

"You see, Rosebud? It was a simple energy miscalculation on my part which threw my entire formula off." Minerva made a noise resembling a laugh.

"Da'?" she said.

"Yes?"

"You did it! You actually figured it out!" She looked at her father, smiled, and threw her arms around his neck. "You figured it out!" He laughed as he hugged her back.

"Yes, _we_ figured it out," he smiled. He pulled back. "Well, Minerva… Do you think you would like to try it out?" She looked from her father to the board and back to her father. She was nervous.

"Well… I am only twenty one, and I don't know if I really-,"

"Minerva, relax," Aires said. "You can do it. You are a smart young woman. You are can do this, I have faith in you." Minerva looked at the board again before she nodded.

"Very well," she said. She grabbed a nearby stool and sat on it. Aires smiled and looked at her.

"Okay, remember the concentrating techniques we practiced," he said. "Breathe. Close your eyes and breathe deeply." Minerva nodded and did as she was told. Aires continued to coach her and before his very eyes…

"MINERVA! YOU DID IT!" he cried. The cat, which now sat in Minerva's place, opened its eyes, looked at itself, mewed, and jumped down. It circled Aires' feet and two seconds later Minerva appeared in its place.

"It worked, Da'!" she exclaimed. She hugged him once more…

"That's it, Minerva!" he cried. "I'm off to the Transfiguration Convention!"

**A/N2: And… scene! I bow before you and hope you enjoy what I have given to you! I have painstakingly finished this for you and it is now one a.m. in Southern California. I am BEAT! Read long and prosper. Always Hopeful**


	4. The Beast

Disclaimer: I own nothing dealing with Harry Potter and I never will inmy whole life

**Disclaimer: I own nothing dealing with Harry Potter and I never will in my whole life. Duh!**

**A/N: I just wanted to say thank you very much for all that you have said and all your support and patience. Thanks for everything. It means a lot to me. I love you all. And it kills me that I have not been as good in my updates as I would have liked to have been. But I promise I will try better.**

**Chapter Four: The Beast...**

The next morning, Minerva woke bright and early. She wanted to make sure everything was ready for her father's departure at six. Of course, when he said he wanted to leave at six, he would not leave until seven. Nevertheless, here she was at five in the morning, preparing his breakfast and packing his lunch. She wanted nothing to hinder her father's big day. So by the time her father entered the kitchen (at six thirty, Minerva noted), everything was ready for him. She had even prepared his portkey for him. He greeted her warmly with a smile and a kiss to her cheek before he sat down.

"You better hurry up and eat, Da'," she said. "You don't want to be late."

"You worry too much, Rosebud," he chuckled.

"And you don't seem to worry enough," she scolded.

"Perhaps," Aires consented. "I fear you and I shall never meet a happy medium as far as that is concerned." Nevertheless, Aires was happy with his life with Minerva. Despite the numerous rumors and wild discussions going on throughout the town, he was proud of his daughter and for the way she thought.

So, it was with a happy heart that Aires McGonagall finished his breakfast and, after kissing his daughter goodbye, left "promptly" at seven-fifteen (which was, as he attempted to say, what he 'had in mind all along').

Minerva waved to her father, glad to see him feeling so uplifted for once. She was a bit upset that he had not consented to using the floo network to get where he was going to, but he had insisted that he did not wish to, as he put it, "come tumbling out of a chimney like some muggle child's figment of imagination, only to soil his perfectly good and clean robes". Oh, how she loved her father, but sometimes, he turned out to be every bit as eccentric as the people in town claimed he was. She had to laugh, though. Oh well. So what if he insisted on walking to the nearest portkey spot? What did it really matter? After all, nothing could happen to him, right? Shaking her head as she lost sight of him, she turned and walked softly into the house once again as she tried not to think of the big, empty house she would have to tend to for the next few days.

Ooooooooooo

Aires McGonagall was feeling incredibly light hearted. He had found what he needed in order to save what was left of his shabby reputation, as well as that of Minerva's. In fact, he might just become so well respected in the community that he might be able to make a perfectly good marriage arrangement between his daughter and any fine young youth in the town. Surely that Tom Riddle would be a good match. He grimaced as that name ran through his head. He remembered that Minerva was not too fond of that wizard. She had made it a point, in no uncertain terms, to tell him exactly what she thought of Tom Riddle. And it was quite clear that she did not like him one bit. She would not even like to share the same sidewalk with him, let alone a marital tie.

Oh well, he thought. He was sure to find SOME nice young wizard Minerva would like to marry. After all, she may be strong willed, and occasionally stubborn, but surely there had to be ONE man- one who was different enough from the rest to catch her eye- whom she would consider marrying. After all, Minerva cannot have an aversion to all men. And despite what she might say… not every man is a beast!

Aires' heart began to beat faster as he neared his portkey. He was getting so close to his victory. All he had to do was to take his portkey to where he needed to go and he would be in a whole new world. He was now a mere ten feet away from where he needed to be. There, he saw it. Surely a rusted old pot was nothing to shout about, but to him, it was his future. For there, in that rusted old pot, lie the portkey which would take him to the convention- the convention which would ensure his life's work would not go to waste, as so many feared it would. The taste of joy and happiness was actually present in his mouth. And with each step taking him closer, the stronger that taste grew. Now he was a mere six feet away.

Five… Butterflies rose in his stomach.

Four… Those butterflies began to perform some kind of a jig in his stomach, beating so fast that he feared he might loose what little he had actually eaten for breakfast.

Three… His cheeks were red with excitement.

Two… His hand stretched out to grab the pot. Just one more foot to go and…

"Ah!" Aires stumbled back as a flash of silver flew in front of him. He lost his balance and fell, rolling a few feet away, as the ground was on some form of slope. When he stopped, having landed on his back, he looked up to where his portkey was and saw a grey and white wolf. The wolf stood proudly, staring down at Aires as though it were a wolf with an attitude; and in the wolf's mouth was the rusted old pot, dangling lifelessly. Aires felt his stomach shrink, as though the butterflies were quickly exiting his stomach in a not so orderly fashion.

With a growl and a swish of his tail, the wolf turned and headed toward the opposite direction. It took Aires a few extra moments to realize just what had happened. Therefore, it took him a few more moments to decide what he should do.

"Hey, bring that back here!" he called, jumping up onto his feet and running after the wolf. Had he had any time to think about his current course of action, he probably would have paused and thought of something else to do. As it was, he was still somewhat shocked at what had occurred; therefore his mind was all in a whirl. Therefore, it did not seem odd to him that he should be chasing a stray wolf with a portkey. He chased the wolf into a nearby forest, feeling he was finally gaining on the beast. Suddenly, the wolf stopped, turned, and looked at Aires, an almost teasing smile upon his long snout. Aires pause, but only for a moment. He saw the portkey dangling from the wolf's mouth, and before he could reason his way out of it, he lunged, making a mad grab for the hunk of rust. He missed, unfortunately, and knew that he would fall flat on his face. Now, falling flat on his face was nothing unusual, for he had done it many times. But what would have made this fall particularly embarrassing was the fact that it had been a wolf that had outsmarted him, thus causing his embarrassing predicament. He closed his eyes, prepared to fall upon the wood floor. However…

Aires opened his eyes when he felt something cold and hard beneath his person. It was not the same cold, hard floor he had been expecting to feel, but rather the cold, hard feeling of a stone floor. There were no leaves, twigs, or foliage of any kind to be felt scraping against his round cheek. There were no pebbles to be felt making their way into his shoes, which would no doubt have irritated him to no end at a later hour. Instead, there was simply cold, hard, smooth stone. Opening his right eye slowly, he looked around, only to find that he was lying inside a long, deserted hallway. There were suits of armor on either side, all standing tall and proud, as though they were guarding each stone in particular. Opening his other eye and lifting his head slightly, he was able to get a better view of the situation overall.

Where was he? He had never been in this corridor before. At least, he didn't remember ever being in this corridor before. Standing up, he brushed himself off and turned around in a circle, trying his best to get a clear understanding of his situation. Where was he? What was this place? He did not know. Finally, he stopped, facing one of the walls. There, he saw a table against the wall, measuring roughly forty inches across. It was just wide enough to hold a glass case, which held an old looking map. On either side of this case were two candelabras, both lit and melting the wax to their ends and, therefore, emitting an incredibly dim light. But it was just enough light to allow him to see that the paper inside the glass was, indeed, a map, though he did have to squint a bit to see what it read. He squinted, and when he discovered that the words were still hard to see, he remembered that he did not have his spectacles on. So, he pulled them out of his pocket and placed them upon his nose. He smiled when he noticed that the words and pictures finally came into focus.

"Ah, that's better," he said to himself. He looked at the top of the map and gasped so loudly, he nearly choked on his breath. "It cannot be." But indeed, it was. At the top of the map were the words:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Circa 1945

Shortly After the Defeat of Grindlewald

"Grindlewald?" whispered Aires, scratching his head in an air of confusion. Wasn't that the man who was defeated by Albus Dumbledore not too long ago? It was almost a year ago now, wasn't it? Aires was never bothered with details. He just knew bare facts. That was the hazard of locking himself up with his work for sometimes weeks on end. He never knew what was going on. If it were not for Minerva, he probably would not have known a war was even going on, occupying his mind with his potions and calculations instead.

But those thoughts fled his mind as he suddenly thought of something. Was he in Hogwarts? Looking at the map, he tried to decipher if he could possibly be in one of the many long corridors he saw there. It was only then that he had noticed small dots moving around. In one hallway, he saw two dots, one several inches in front of the other one. The dots seemed to be moving quickly, almost as though they were running after through the corridors. The one dot in front, the one which seemed to be 'running' from the other dot, had a small banner next to it, and in that banner was printed a name. Aires quirked his brow.

"Arthur Weasly?" Who was Arthur Weasly and why was he running from the second dot? Aires looked at the other dot as it followed the first dot around a corner. The name in that banner was Angela Weasly. Aires didn't know what to make of this map. What did these dots and names mean? It was only then that a small gold plaque caught his eye. It was on the wall just above of the case.

Here Is a Map

A Map Which Might Help

You Navigate Around

These Halls

But You Best Hurry

Lest Those You Are

Running From Find You

"What does that mean?" Aires wondered aloud. Looking down at the map, he saw more dots; dots which he had not noticed before. If one were to go two corridors above the two dots we have just seen, and one corridor to the right, one would discover two more dots, both so close Aires had to wonder what they were doing that required them to be so close. Were they whispering or were they…? He did not want to think about it; especially since they had names next to them and these names read Aberforth Dumbledore and Rosalind Dubois. In another corridor slightly diagonally below that corridor was another dot, though this one was pacing back and forth in some kind of room. This one had the name Armondo Dippet just above it. Was this dot in an office of some kind? Or the library? Anyway, this dot was in some kind of room, and whatever room it was, it seemed spacious.

"This all seems very strange to me," Aires said. Then, as if he had just been stabbed, he jumped and uttered a quick cry of surprise. His right hand ran to his head. "The convention! I completely forgot about my findings!" Although he would not have thought it possible, Aires McGonagall had, indeed, completely forgotten about what he had discovered not twelve hours earlier. He had been so excited when he discovered his one small, yet fatal, mistake, and had dreamt about it all night, and yet here he was, reading a map in Hogwarts (ah, now he remembered that name; it was the name of the school Minerva had told him about, the one for young wizards and witches) and not thinking about the one thing that would not only bring him prestige and great honor, but redeem the McGonagall name! That was it. He had to apparate right now! Taking a few steps back, so as not to injure himself, he turned on his heel and attempted to apparate, something he should have done in the first place. Imagine his disappointment when he opened his eyes and discovered he was in the same corridor he had been in before. He frowned. Clearing his throat, he tried again. Again, he failed. Why couldn't he apparate? It was something so simple to do. Just then, he heard a laugh from behind him.

"That was funny. Do it again!" He turned and saw a little boy, no older than five or six. Aires looked at the boy, somewhat startled. The young boy had hair so red is seemed that his hair was on fire. He wasn't thin, nor was he really plump in size. He had brown eyes and cheeks so rosy they looked almost painted. He had a scratch on his left elbow and dirt on his nose, though it almost seemed hard to distinguish the dirt from the brown red freckles which covered his nose and cheeks. He also had one tooth missing on the upper part of his mouth on the right side, one adult front tooth and the second adult front tooth coming in. All in all, he seemed a very cheery young lad, who had no cause to be sad or fear in any way.

"Why, where did you come from?" he asked. "I didn't see you there two seconds ago!" The boy looked at Aires, seeming somewhat shocked at what the older man had just said.

"Didn't you see me coming on that map?" he asked, pointing to the map Aires had been looking at a few seconds ago. Aires looked from the boy to the map and then back again.

"Oh," he said, confused. "So that map shows where everyone is?" he asked, starting to understand the purpose of that map.

"Not everyone, just those here in Hogwarts," he said. He ran up to the map and, after stepping on a stool to see (where had that stool come from?), he pointed to the dot that said "Arthur Weasly" next to it. "See? That is me. And that's you!" He pointed to a dot Aires hadn't seen before. Sure enough, he saw a new dot upon the map, this one bearing his name. "It's how we know where the scary man is; and…" There was a pause before the boy said in a melancholy voice, "… and how the scary man can see us."

"Scary man?" Aires asked, not liking that particular phrase and the way the child had said it. Arthur turned and jumped off the stool sadly.

"The man who was once good but got hurt," he replied. Aires wanted to ask more, but another voice could be heard coming down the hall.

"Oh, Arthur, there you are!" She huffed her way up to the boy, who was obviously her son. "I told you to stop running! It's time for your bath, young man! There is no getting out of this one. You managed to get out of it yesterday, but today there will be no exceptions!" The woman stopped as she suddenly looked up and saw Aires standing beside Arthur. She also had fire red hair and a face that looked almost exactly like her sons. She was much more round, to be sure, but that did not lesson the fact that she WAS his mother. She was surprised, confused, and scared all at once when she saw Aires. "Oh. I did not see you. Erm… Who are you?" she asked. "And how did you get into this castle without anyone noticing?"

"Well, you see, it's like this…" Aires then went to explain what had happened. He told her of this important discovery he had made and how he had planned on showing it off at a convention that was to take place in a few hours and that he needed to get to the place where the convention was taking place or else he would not be able to share this discovery with those around him. Then, he went into the whole situation of the portkey and how this wolf came out of nowhere and stole his portkey and tried to run off with his portkey. The entire time Aires was talking of this, Angela, whose name Aires remembered from the map, looked at him with her brows knit and her bottom lip stationed between her teeth. Once Aires had finished, she took a deep breath.

"Oh, dear, you _are_ in trouble, aren't you?" Then, as though she had not heard a word about his dilhemma, she smiled and held out her hand. "Well, I am Angela Weasly, and this is my son, Arthur. I can certainly tell you that you are indeed a long way from where you need to be. But before you go, can't I invite you to eat? Perhaps a bit of tea before you head to your convention?"

"Well, I would love to, but I really must be going," said Aires. "Would you mind explaining to me why I cannot apparate out of here?"

"Oh, I'm afraid you can't apparate here within the boundaries of Hogwarts," Angela replied sympathetically. "They are safety precautions set up to protect the children who attend here. Well, the children who _used_ to attend here." Just like her son had minutes earlier, Angela suddenly seemed to become very sad. Shaking her head, she grabbed her son's hand. "Anyway, you don't want to leave and walk to the nearest apparation point anyway. It is pouring rain outside." Aires was about to argue with her when she pulled him by the hand. "See?" She pulled him along the corridor to a spot with a window where she made him look outside. What had once been a clear, sunny sky ten minutes ago was now a dark, gloomy day with rain pouring down in heavy sheets! The weather changed so easily, it seemed.

"Well, perhaps one cup of tea," he agreed, turning to her. "But that is all. I cannot delay any longer than one cup." Angela smiled.

"Very good," she said. "Best not send you out to catch your death of cold." Aires began to walk when his foot hit something hard and heard a squeal. Looking down, he saw that same step stool Arthur had stepped on a few moments ago to read the map. The stool then looked at Aires and emitted a growl. Aires was not sure how to respond to that other than to back up several steps.

"What in the world is that?" he asked, trying to understand what was going on. He had meant to say, "What the bloody hell was that?" but had decided at the last second to censor himself for the sake of the six year old. Sure, what he had originally meant to say wasn't all that bad, but Arthur was, after all, not much older than five or six. He really had meant to ask how old the lad was, but had been distracted.

"That's Tobias," said Arthur, bending over and scratching the step stool on, what Aires assumed to be, the behind. "My dad did it for me. I was really sad because he was going away to fight against Grindlewald, and I said I would miss him, so he waved his wand and made this step stool act like a dog. He said that if I ever got lonely, I would just talk to the dog stool and then the dog stool would send the message to my daddy."

"That was very nice of your father," said Aires, finally managing to bring his breathing down to its normal rate. "Where is your father now? I imagine since the war is over, you can tell him yourself." Arthur got very sad once again as he slowed in his petting.

"He never came back from the war," he said solemnly.

"Oh, I am so sorry," replied Aires. Arthur shrugged.

"It's okay. I've learned to be happy with just my mum." Aires looked at Angela, as though he were trying to apologize to her as well. She lowered her eyes and wiped a tear from her left eye. Smiling, she looked at Arthur.

"How about we delay your bath just an hour more so we can give… I'm sorry, you never did give me your name, sir." Aires reached out his hand.

"I am Aires McGonagall." Angela smiled. "Very well, then, Mr. McGonagall. Let us get you that tea."

Ooooooooooo

Angela poured the tea in what seemed to be an old classroom as Aires made himself comfortable in the old professor's chair.

"My, these certainly are comfortable chairs," he commented. "I should talk to Minerva about getting a few of these, one for each room."

"Minerva?" Angela asked as she handed a cup of tea to her son, who was having trouble sitting in one spot. She turned and reached for the teapot so she could pour Aires a cup.

"My daughter," replied Aires. Angela paused in what she was doing and felt her heart rush.

"You have a daughter?" she asked.

"Yes, my only child," he replied, noticing Angela's pause. "Is something wrong? Should I not have a daughter?" Angela recovered quickly and laughed, finally pouring the tea and handing it to him.

"No, you just don't seem the type to have a daughter, that's all," she said. "How old is she?"

"She is twenty-one," he replied. **(A/N: I know that's off, but bear with me please).** Angela nodded.

"Well let's hope she doesn't find herself wondering around here," she said. She looked off in a wistful state. "Things around here lately have been… off, to put it simply. Things are not as they once were." Shaking her head slightly, she came out of her trance and smiled. Just then, the door flew open and in came an elderly gentleman, his white hair flying and his breathing ragged. He wasn't heavyset by any means, but he did have a small belly.

"Where is Rosalind?" he asked, his breathing ragged. Angela rolled her eyes.

"How many times must I tell you that I do not care for your little painted ladies, Aberforth?" she asked. She, too, was trying to censor herself in front of her son. What she really wanted to say was a lot worse. Arthur quirked his brow.

"Mama, what's a painted lady?" he asked. Angela glared at him, giving him her mother's stare.

"Hush, boy," she said. She looked back at Aberforth, who merely smiled at him.

"That, my boy, is something your mama will never be because she is too uptight," he said. Angela's back straightened and she pursed her lips.

"I don't know where Rosalind is, now please leave me to my guest," she said, gesturing towards Aires, who waved somewhat uncomfortably. Aberforth walked in and made his way towards the desk.

"Aren't I to be introduced?" he asked. He made his way to the table and made a grand bowing gesture to the man in the chair. "Hello, I am Aberforth Dumbledore. It is a pleasure to meet you. We rarely get visitors here. Very nice to meet you." He shook Aires' hand.

"If you don't get many visitors here, why not go into town and spend some time down there?" Aberforth winced, but never lost his smile.

"That, my good man, is much easier said than done, I'm afraid." He took a few steps back and bowed again. "It was very nice to make your acquaintance once again. But I fear I must take my leave to find a woman!" He turned to leave when another man came rushing into the room. Was this the meeting place for everyone in the castle, Aires wondered? He, too, was an older gentleman, though much older than Aberforth. He had white hair and bright green eyes.

"You three, brace yourself! It's Albus! He's having one of his bad days." He had now run into the room so quickly, Aires wasn't sure he had even seen him make the bolt from the door to where Arthur sat, obviously petrified. "Hide the boy! Come on, Angela, get him out of here!"

"How bad?" asked Angela, cleaning up the tea with her wand.

"Very bad. I think we need to up his dosage, for this one isn't working as quickly or efficiently as it did two months ago. HIDE THE BOY I TELL YOU!"

"Oy, I got him!" cried Aberforth, finally sobering up. He pulled something out of his pocket, which appeared to be a cloak. He covered Angela and Arthur with it, revealing that it was an invisibility cloak.

"There's no room for all of us," said Aberforth.

"Should I go?" asked Aires, growing frightened. Armando Dippet, the man who had entered, looked at him, fear in his own eyes.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Man lost," Aberforth answered. He didn't want to take up anymore time. "Quick, hide under the desk!" But before Aires could move, the lights went out and everything was cold. Aires sat frozen in the chair, too frightened to even utter a sound. He heard the sound of feet upon the ground and grown men grunting, as though they fell to the ground and had the wind knocked out of them. Then, everything went silent. Aires didn't know what to do. Everything was cold and silent. Then, after ten seconds of silence, the lights went back on and Aires could not stop the scream that came from his lips. Right in front of him, not three inches from his face, was the face of some sort of animal-like human. He was crouching on the table, looking like an experiment gone horribly wrong. He looked like a man, but had hair or fur like some sort of wild beat. It was not wolf's hair, nor was it a type of cat's hair. It didn't seem like any hair he had ever seen, and yet he knew it was not human hair either.

"What are you doing here?" the man growled. Aires could see that he was a creature who, if he were actually a full man, would be well over eighty.

"I-I-I took a portkey and it must have accidentally brought me here, even though I wanted to be somewhere else," Aires tried to explain. But the beast, or man, grabbed Aires by the front of his robes and threw him across the room. When Aires landed, he hit his head on the corner of a table. When he grabbed his head, he could feel it was bleeding a little, though he knew it was mostly bruised. He looked up and saw the beast hovering over him.

"Who sent you?" he growled. "Was it an enemy?"

"No! No! I swear, I did not mean to intrude!" cried Aires. He held up his hands in defense. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Oh! So you wanted to come and see if it was true? You just wanted to come and look at the beast, is that it? Speak you dog!" He pounded his fist right next to Aires.

"No! I swear, I didn't know!"

"Didn't know what? How hideous I am! Well take a good, long look, because this is the last look you'll get without bars marring the image!" And with that, the beast, who once called himself Albus Dumbledore, kindest man you ever met, defeater of the dark lord Grindlewald, and once successor of Armando Dippet to the most prestigious wizard's school in the world, dragged Aires McGonagall towards the dungeon. As he swept out of the room, Angela came out of hiding with a now crying Arthur. She went to Armando's side and took off the portrificus totalus which had been placed on him and Aberforth.

"What happened?" Armando asked, sitting up.

"He took the man," Angela said. The three looked at each other.

"I fear, my dear friends, that the worst and final stage is beginning!"

**A/N2: WOOT I AM DONE! Let us all do a happy dance and rejoice! Thanks again for being so patient. Thank you ten thousand times everyone!! I promise I shall try and be more hasty with my updates. The key word being 'try'. LOL. Thanks for reading and I beg you guys to review. I thrive on reviews and actually got inspired to write because of reviews, so keep them coming! I am actually listening to my Disney cd's and Gaston is playing right now. LOL! Read long and prosper. Always Hopeful**


	5. Two Beasts and A Belle

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the basic idea of combining the stories

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the basic idea of combining the stories.**

**A/N: I want to thank you all not only for the patience you showed for the incredibly long wait for the last chapter, but for all your kind reviews. Thanks for those who were kind enough to tell me what you think. It really touches my heart and means a lot to me. Thank you so very much. Now, on with the story, shall we?**

**Chapter Five: Two Beasts and a Belle…**

Minerva sat back and sighed, relaxing in the chair in a very un-ladylike manner. Her father had only been gone for two hours and already she had finished what she had wanted to get done. She had done the dishes, in the muggle style, of course, and finished transcribing her father's findings onto parchment. He had told her that he wanted to keep extra copies, just in case something should happen to the ones he took with him to the convention. She didn't think that anything would happen. After all, her father was very cautious with all of this work, and she knew that no one would dare try and steal his idea. He may be considered insane, but there were still those who either liked him overall or found him too amusing. Either way, they knew he would never hurt another; therefore no one wanted to hurt him.

So, there was nothing she needed to do. Then her new book caught her eye and a smile spread across her lips. Sitting up just enough to extend her arm and grab it, she rested against the back of the chair once again and opened her book. This was absolutely the perfect time for her to lose herself completely in the magic this muggle author had created. Oh how she adored The Secret Garden. But no sooner had the main character, Mary Lennox, reached Liverpool after her parents' death than there was a knock on the door. Minerva pouted slightly (something she was careful to never allow anyone see her do, not even her father). Though she was extremely put out, she marked her page with a bookmark her father had given for her last birthday and reluctantly stood up to answer the door. Opening it just enough to peer out, she felt her eyes roll inside her head. She could not help the sarcastic gesture as she saw who it was on the other side.

"Hello, Minerva," Tom smiled. Before Minerva could respond, he pushed himself past her and into her house. He looked around the small living room as he began to take off his gloves, not once thinking that what he was doing was considered by most people to be incredibly rude. He was Tom Riddle, after all. Who didn't want to have him in their house? The very thought would have seemed quite absurd if he had cared to think of it.

"Tom." What Minerva said was a statement. "I don't remember inviting you inside." She followed him as he made his way to the kitchen. He turned and looked at her as he stood next to the kitchen table, the very table she had been so happily reading at not two minutes ago. He smiled a bright smile at her.

"I did not think we should dispense with the formalities. Today is a good day, after all. A very good day, in fact. Not just for me, mind you, but for yourself as well." Minerva quirked an eyebrow at this announcement.

"Is that a fact? And why, might I ask, should today be a good day for the both of us? Have you done something that requires that you move as far away from here as possible?" She knew it was a long shot, but she knew she had to try. She had hoped that he would say that he had gotten himself arrested, but not only would she have found that out in newspaper, but her luck was never that good. He laughed a forced laugh as he tried to act as though he were really amused at her little 'joke'.

"Oh, Minerva, always one with the jokes, aren't you?" Minerva glared at him as she stood there in the kitchen doorway. He turned and looked down at the table beside him, his eye catching sight of the book she had been carrying with her earlier that day. He picked it up and read the title. "The Secret Garden? My, my, Minerva, aren't you the ambitious one." He flipped through the pages. "I have never been one for fantasy, nor for muggle stories, and I simply do not understand why such things fascinate you so." Minerva pursed her lips as she tried to control her temper. She had always been told that her short temper would get her into trouble one day.

"I enjoy them because they help me to escape from the every day terror and pain of real life. They are important to me because I do not get the chance to relax as often as _some_ people do. They are even more important when my father is gone and I have no one to keep me company." Tom lifted his eyebrow as he looked at her from over the top of the book. He took in a tired breath before he set it back down once again.

"Well, my dear, I suppose if they are important to you, then they shall be important to me as well." He took several steps toward her. "But you needn't fear of being alone anymore, my love; even when your father is gone. You shall have me!" Minerva stared at him with utter disgust.

"First and foremost, you are NOT to refer to me as your 'love' ever again. I am not your 'love'. Second of all, I appreciate your offer…" she had to stop herself from cringing or laughing as she said that, "… but I do not think I shall be bothering you any time soon for company; even if it is out of sheer boredom or desperation." Tom hesitated only slightly in his steps before he continued on his way.

"I assure you, it would be no bother to me," he said, a smug smirk upon his face. He continued to walk towards her, causing her to back up several paces. "Imagine what a life the two of us might lead, my dear. If you will only say yes, then we can be the perfect couple. You, the beautiful little housewife taking care of our seven children; all of them boys, of course. Then there will be myself, the provider of our prestigious family. We will be the envy of all our peers." By then, he had somehow managed to back Minerva into the door. If there was anything Minerva hated more than being in the same breathing space as Tom Marvolo Riddle, it was being backed against a wall by Tom Marvolo Riddle. What was she to do?

"That is, indeed, a fine picture, with only one minor adjustment," she said, trying not to allow him to hear the slight tremor of fear in her voice.

"And what might that be, my sweet?" he asked, bringing his right arm beside her head and playing with one of her black curls, which framed her face beautifully. He began to lean his head in closer to hers.

"I do not mind the picture of you with seven boys…" (Yeah right, the thought of this man breeding was enough to cause a baby to cry out in fear) "… But I cannot see myself in the picture."

"And why is that, Min? Is it because you don't think you deserve me?" Minerva cringed, not only at the nearness of him, but also at what he said. Min? How dare he call her 'Min'? She had to get away from him.

"That's exactly the reason. I just don't deserve you!" With that, she turned the doorknob and stepped back.

"Woah!" Tom fell forward and out the door, stumbling as he did so. He then tripped over the front steps and fell face first… into a large pile of manure. What was that? Hippogriff manure? Yuck! The door slammed shut behind him and he heard a locking charm being placed upon the door. He lifted his head, only to display the manure he had landed in was all over his face, as well as on the front of his robes and his hands.

"Oh, of sir, oh how dreadful," Peter said as he turned the corner, dressed in his best robes. His hair was combed back and greased and his nails were buffed. He didn't seem so disgusting, some would say. He went to Tom's side and helped him up. He took out his wand and began to clean him off but Tom impatiently pushed him away and insisted on finishing the job himself. "Sir, what happened? I thought you were going to propose to Miss McGonagall?" Tom stopped and glared at his lackey.

"That _is_ what I was doing, you great oaf," he hissed. "But she pushed me out of the house!"

"Oh, sir, how terrible! She refused?" Peter regretted his words the instant he said them. Tom blasted him with an energy blast, causing him to fall to the ground, before he finished cleaning himself off.

"Of course she didn't refuse. She… just…needs some time to think about it, that's all!" He smoothed out his robes a bit before he was satisfied. Peter stood up and wiped himself off as well.

"Of course, sir," he said. "Time is all she needs. She will most surely come around eventually." Tom nodded and stared walking away. Peter called out to him. "But sir! What about the wedding party? What shall we do about the wedding party you had set up for when Minerva said yes?" Tom stopped before calling to Peter over his shoulder.

"Tell them it is postponed until further notice, but to be prepared for a wedding at any time. The moment Minerva says yes, we are getting married. I don't care if they are in bed sleeping; they are coming to the wedding." With that, he disappeared. Peter sighed. Well, this was a great disappointment. He supposed the only thing he could do was to tell the others exactly what he was supposed to. Knowing the sooner he did it the better, he quickly apparated to the pre-approved spot to tell the guests.

Ooooooooooo

Minerva stormed around her living room, her nostrils flaring. How _dare_ that man just come into _her_ house and tell her he planned to _marry her_? She didn't even _like_ him, let alone love him enough to _marry_ him! Of all the low, no good, horrible man! No, he wasn't a man, he was a worm; a crawling, little worm! What was he getting at anyway? He must be joking, to be sure. Even if he weren't joking, there would be no way she would touch him in a friendly manner, let alone in a loving, gentle manner.

She was stopped in her storming by a rush of fire in the fireplace and a face popping out of it.

"Minerva? Are you there?" Minerva smiled slightly at the sound of Philippe Cheval, a member of the Ministry of Magic and close, personal friend to her father. He was scheduled to be at the conference with her father. She then furrowed her brow. Why was he talking to her?

"Hello, Philippe," she said, walking to the fireplace and kneeling down. "How are you? How is the conference going?"

"It's going well thus far, with one small worry. How is your father feeling?" Minerva quirked a brow at the question.

"He was fine when he left for the conference this morning. Why do you ask?" Philippe looked upset.

"Oh, well he isn't here." Minerva felt his heart rise into her throat.

"What do you mean he isn't there? He left for the conference this morning. He went by portkey."

"Well, he may have left by portkey as you say, but he never showed up here." Minerva could feel hot tears begin to form in her eyes as panic threatened to take hold of her. What happened? She prayed that nothing bad had happened to him. He was the only family she had left in this world and if something was to happen to him, then she would be all alone in this world. She would be an orphan. Even at twenty-one, she was still an orphan because her father and mother would both be dead. But she couldn't think about that now. She couldn't; she wouldn't. Absolutely not. Philippe could see the panic in her face.

"Now, Minerva, don't panic. I know your father. I am sure there must be a perfectly good explanation as to why he is not here and why he has not shown up for his presentation. He is only fifteen minutes late." Minerva furrowed her brow.

"That is not my father and you know that. Philippe, please look around. Maybe someone has heard something from him. I am going out to look around where his portkey was to be at. I want to see if there is anything I can find that will explain what might have happened. Perhaps he's hurt."

"Minerva! Minerva!" But Philippe was too late. With a flick of her wrist and a few fluid movements, she was out the door and on her way to where her father was supposed to have gone. And as she made her way to the portkey was supposed to have been placed, so many questions whirled through her mind. Where was her father? Why had he not shown up to the convention? Was he hurt? And if he was hurt, then where could he possibly be? So many questions and no answers.

Ooooooooooo

Minerva had finally made it to where her father had told her the portkey was supposed to have been set up. She looked around, but all she could see was the edge of town behind her, wide spaces to her left and right, and a forest right in front of her. She paused as a sinking feeling went through her. Was it possible that her father had wandered into the forest? But why would he? After all, he had warned her on numerous occasions as a child to steer clear of the Forbidden Forest. There was a reason why it was forbidden. She suddenly frowned as an almost amusing, almost annoying thought popped into her mind. Why was there a Forbidden Forest in nearly every wizard's community? There was also one in Ireland and one in Scotland. And the one in Scotland was near a school, no less. That is, if she were to believe all those stories she had heard in town.

She snorted as she thought of the stories. If she were to believe any of them, then there was a 'strange and terrible beast' who resided in the old school, 'searching for the one woman' who could love him and 'return him to his original state' before the Great War last year. Were people so desperate for entertainment that they'd believe anything? Now, Minerva admitted that she did not know exactly what had happened to the poor man in that last stand, but she knew that what everyone was proposing was simply ludicrous. Wasn't it? Minerva's theory was that after Mr. Dumbledore killed Grindlewald, he was either too ashamed of what he had done or much too weak to make it back completely. So, by Minerva's theory, he was either too ashamed of what he'd done or had died shortly after, too maimed and distorted to be recognized as the hero he was.

Either way, she didn't believe that he was the so-called 'beast' now residing in the castle that was once called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Those were just stories designed to scare people, as well as to offer some sort of explanation as to what happened to the brave man who defeated a wretched man. The castle has only added to the stories because of its appearance. It had fallen into despair since the final battle. Minerva shook her head as she thought of all those stories. That's just the thing that could ruin such a beautiful building- or such an honest man… stories!

Minerva sighed as she made her way into the Forbidden Forest. That was the only place her father could have gone. If he had gone anywhere else, he would have been seen, for sure, and then any of the townspeople would have come to her, telling her to 'get her crazy father back inside" before he did something wild. He was not a popular man, of course. So, she trudged toward the foreboding trees, determined not to allow the building fear to stop her from entering. The trees were cold and dark, offering nothing but promises of broken spirits and rough times for all who dared tread past them, stomping upon their roots. Minerva shivered unwillingly, unable to stop herself from doing so. She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, wishing that she had been able to prepare herself a bit more for what she might face within the enclosure of these woods.

Onward she went, a brave soul looking for her father, praying she found him before something wretched happened to him that could not be reversed. She had lost her mother at the tender age of five, and since she had no other family to speak of, she refused to lose him before she absolutely had to. He meant too much to her for her to just give up so easily. If she didn't have her father, she would have nothing left. Some kind of bird sounded off in the distance. Minerva could not tell what kind of bird it was, for she had never been good at identifying different animals. She knew the basic types of birds, such as the owl or the crow, but she didn't know many of them.

Suddenly, she heard a twig snap. The sound caused her to stop abruptly and her breath to catch in her throat. Blast her fear. She had promised herself upon entering that she would be brave; she promised she would not turn around and run; she promised herself she would find her father without any hindrance. Then she heard the sound of hoof beats grow louder, sounding faster and faster in her direction. She back up several steps before turning. She was stopped from her running when she saw a centaur standing behind her. She was so shocked that she fell flat on her bum, a scream caught in her throat. The centaur reared up before he lowered his front hooves down on the ground once more. He went to her side and reached out his hand in a friendly manner, as if to help her up. Minerva's eyebrows came together in a confused manner. Cautiously, she reached up and accepted his hand, shocked when he actually helped her up.

"You seek the man whom you call father." It was not a question, but a simple statement. How did he know this?

"Yes, I do," she said, more confusion setting in.

"I saw him running through these very woods this morning, chasing after a wolf with a rusted old pot in its mouth. They were there one minute, and then they were gone."

"Where did they go?" The moment that question had passed her lips, she knew that was not a smart question to ask. How would he know? And yet his answer stunned her.

"He is the type of wolf one usually sees in the Forbidden Forest near the grounds of Hogwarts." He reared up and began to run away. "That is where you must go! Seek your father there and all shall be well!" And with that, he was gone, having dashed away sleekly through all the trees. Minerva's mouth dropped.

"Wait! How do you know?" But he was gone. He was no longer there to answer her questions, and therefore she was left alone to decide on what she wanted to do. Should she believe what he said about the wolf or should she ignore him, passing him off as someone who is just out to make a fool of her? She was unsure. Finally, after much debating, she decided she should give him a chance. Feeling as though she was getting into something that she would never be able to get out of, she made her way to an apparation point. She needed to at least try and find her father, even if it meant going to Hogwarts herself.

Ooooooooooo

"Why? Why were you so nice to him?" Aberforth was practically screaming at Angela, his face nearly completely red. They were standing in the Great Hall, along with Armando. Albus had taken Aires down to the dungeons to store him. Sure, it had been cliché and somewhat predictable to those now standing in the Great Hall, and yet none of those now speaking were going to say anything. How could they when he was already so very angry? None of them wanted to say anything about it lest they have their head torn from their neck.

"How could I know that Albus was having one of his bad days? He hasn't had one in ages, I just thought-,"

"That's the problem, you _didn't_ think. You just dragged that poor man into this mess!" Angela grew angry.

"Well you're one to talk! If you were so worried about him, why didn't you forget about your insatiable libido for one second and tell him to go? Everyone here knows you have no trouble whatsoever telling people what is on your mind." Aberforth opened his mouth to speak, but closed it when he realized she was right. He glared at her. Just because she was right… this time… doesn't mean he had to admit it. Armando chuckled.

"She has you there, my boy," he said. Aberforth growled.

"That still does not change the fact that we have a problem." He moved to where the teachers used to sit when school was in session. Set there were Albus' medical charts. "We have an unknown wizard held in the dungeons and Albus is furious. He is getting worse. I fear we may have to up his dosage."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" asked Angela, worried. "You know that when he gets in these moods, the only way we can stabilize him is when he is asleep, and the only way to do _that_ is to either wait for him to fall asleep or hit him from behind. If we wait, that could take hours, even days in this mood. If we immobilize him, he will wake in an even worse mood, even _with_ the potion to keep him under control."

"Well, it's worth a shot, isn't it?" asked Aberforth, turning to look at her. "Have you got any idea?" Angela shook her head as she could think of nothing else to suggest. "I thought not."

Ooooooooooo

Minerva stood in front of Hogwarts, beginning to wish she had not come here. Why had she been foolish enough to come here? After all, how could she trust that centaur's word? He had no reason to help her, so why should she have followed his advice? On the other hand, he _had_ seen her father. Hadn't he? Perhaps it was another man that he had seen? She shook her head. How many other men in their village would have been foolish enough to follow after that bloody wolf? Assuming there _had_ been a wolf, of course.

Well, she had to at least try. It may not have been much of a lead, but it was a lead nonetheless. Even if he was not there, then at least she could say she had looked and would therefore be able to scratch Hogwarts off her list of possible places. Heaving a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes and pushed on the heavy door.

Ooooooooooo

"I didn't say that!"

Armando rolled his eyes and groaned as Aberforth and Angela were in the middle of yet another argument. 'No,' he thought, 'spirited debate!' He shook his head as he saw them 'discussing' what needed to be done and which course of action would be the best to get to that end. Then, there was a noise. He rushed to the bickering adults and covered their mouths.

"Shh!" he whispered urgently. Quickly and wordlessly, he turned off the lights. "Follow me," he whispered again. With a flick of his wand, he illuminated its tip, but just enough so that they could see. Quickly and quietly, the tiptoed to the doors of the Great Hall and peered out through a crack, barely wide enough for a child's hand to pass through. Three people gasped; three people held their breaths at the sight which lay before them. A woman, with long, raven hair, pale skin, and vibrant green eyes, managed to push the door open and wiggle her way through. She closed the door and leaned against it, taking slow, steady breaths. Who was that beautiful woman and what was she doing here? Did she not know where she was? Had she not heard the stories? All their questions were answered as she raised her head and, in a shaky voice, called out.

"Da'? Are you here?" They could clearly hear her sadness mixed with fear in her voice. In the dark shadows of the Great Hall, the three elder figures looked at each other. Aberforth furrowed his brows as he mouthed the word "Father?" to the others. The others shrugged and turned back to the figure. She took a few steps further into the castle as she pulled the hood of her cloak back and unfastened the clasp. She pulled it off and draped it over her arm. "Hello? Is anyone here?"

Minerva was growing extremely worried. What if the centaur had been wrong? Or what if she was walking blindly into a trap? And what of her father? Had her father been lead into this same trap? She was startled when she heard a sneeze coming from her right. It frightened her and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Who's there?" she called out, her hand reaching for her wand. On the other side of the door, the three adults looked down rather angrily at the child, who had been responsible for the sneeze. Arthur looked up apologetically, his cheeks flushing, and shrugged. They heard Minerva call out again. "If anyone is there, you better beware. I'm warning you! I'm armed!" Armando snickered.

"A brave one, isn't she? Do you suppose she was a Grindlewald when she attended school here?"

"I don't think she ever attended this school," Aberforth whispered back. Angela and Armando looked to see that Aberforth was peering through the crack. "I'm certain I would have remembered someone as beautiful as she is. I never forget a face." Angela scoffed angrily.

"I highly doubt it is her face you would remember." Aberforth rolled his eyes before he looked back at the woman in the other room. She was still staring at the doors which he hid behind, her wand pointed. Slowly, she lowered her wand, although she was still rather wary. She began to continue through the castle when a chain of events began, which would take all involved beyond the point of no return. Had she known how deeply she was to be involved, not only with this castle but with all its occupants as well, she would have followed her first instinct to turn and walk away. She would have never known for sure if her father was here or if this was just a trap. She never would have met the occupants of this giant castle and she might never have met any of the people here. As it was, she continued on foot, her courage guiding her footsteps.

"What should we do?" asked Angela in a hushed voice.

"How the bloody hell should I know?" hissed Aberforth.

"She could very well prove to be an asset to us," added Armando, rubbing his chin and thinking about the conditions of the curse.

"Are you saying you are willing to subject that poor girl to Albus? He is not suitable for _any_ company, let alone a beautiful young woman with her entire future ahead of her. Besides, she may have a beau of her own, did you ever consider that? No, of course not, because you are a man and you only consider yourselves."

"Oh come off it, Angela," Aberforth hissed, turning from the door and glaring at her. "You know you were thinking the same thing we were."

"But I was merely considering, not actually considering it as an option."

"Oh, so just because you did not voice your opinion…"

As Aberforth continued to argue with Angela, and as Armando attempted to play referee for the two "bickering children", as he put it, none of them noticed Arthur slip through the crack in the door and begin to follow the woman he had seen. He could not help himself. He was a young boy of an extremely curious nature. There was nothing he could do to control himself when something of this magnitude happened. After all, there were no other children he could play with, and his mother was busy helping the "scary man", as he called him. He had no brothers or sisters and his father had died in the war with Grindlewald. Therefore, he was left alone in the world with his mother. Had Albus, or the "scary man", not felt pity for them and offered his mother a job as the flying instructor, then there is no doubt that they might have starved.

Arthur tiptoed towards where the woman had disappeared. Although the boy knew that they probably should not be wondering the castle halls when Mr. Albus was in a bad mood, he could not help following her. Why were the grown ups so interested in her? Why did they seem to think she could help with Mr. Albus' condition? If she could, then Arthur was very happy to see her, and he thought it only fitting that someone so beautiful should be the one to do such a good thing. At least, that was the opinion of this little wonderer.

Uh-oh. He felt another sneeze coming on. He had to do his best not to or else she would hear him again and perhaps catch him. Here it comes.

ACHOO!

Uh-oh! Now he was in for it. As he rubbed his nose, he felt a light fall over him. He halted in his steps and looked up, as pale as pale could be. He began to shake as his eyes met hers.

Minerva had heard the same sneeze that she had heard earlier. And as she turned and pointed her wand in the direction of the sound, she was more than shocked to see a little boy, not more than five? Six? She was not sure, but what she _did_ know was that he was much too young to be wondering around a large, old, run down castle, even if it _was_ deserted. At least, she _hoped_ it was deserted. She mentally shook her mind as she focused on the little boy in front of her. He was shaking. Was he really scared of her? Why?

"Hello," she said, lowering her wand slightly. This only seemed to make him shake harder. "Who are you?"

"A-A-Arthur," he stammered. "Please don't tell my mum that I scared you. I didn't mean to follow you, but I couldn't help it." Minerva smiled slightly. He was so sweet, and she could see that he was obviously absolutely frightened of him. She took a few steps toward him and knelt down, placing her wand away to show that she was a friend.

"Hello, Arthur," she said softly, offering him a smile. "My name is Minerva." She reached out her hand and, although he hesitated a bit, he accepted it. "How old are you?"

"I'm six," he said.

"Are you lost?"

"No, I'm here with my mum," he said. Minerva looked around.

"Where is she?"

"She's back in the Great Hall," Arthur replied. "We saw you come in. They seemed very interested about you."

"Oh really?" asked Minerva, her eyes quirked. "And why is that?"

"They say you might be the one who cures the scary man from his curse?" Minerva gaped at him, not sure what to say.

"Who? From what?" Surely he could not be talking about the legend of Albus Dumbledore… Could he?

"Arthur Weasly!" Minerva looked up as a woman stormed up to the young boy, followed closely by two men. "How many times have I told you not to go running about? You know better than that!" She stopped when she saw Minerva, who stood up and straightened her skirts. At first, this new woman didn't know what to say, nor did either of the men who stood on both sides of her. "Oh… He found you."

"Yes, I believe he did," replied Minerva, pursing her lips. "I am sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I thought the castle was deserted, and I thought that perhaps my father might be here. I can see that he is not so I shall excuse me." She began to leave when one of the men stopped her.

"Are you looking for an elderly gentleman, who could be considered by most to be an eccentric?" Minerva stopped and looked at him.

"Yes, how did you know? Is he here?" Minerva's eyes grew wide. The other man chuckled.

"I'm afraid you may have to be a bit more specific when using the term 'eccentric', Armando. Eccentric has also been used on Albus."

"Not much anymore, Aberforth," Armando added sadly. Aberforth nodded sadly. It was true.

"Oh please, if my father is here, can you please take me to him?" Minerva pleaded. Her green eyes grew big and the others looked at her in pity.

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Aberforth. "You have stayed here long enough. It is a miracle you have gone this far without being noticed. You should leave now, before something horrible happens."

"No, I am not leaving without my father. You must take me to him."

"It's too dangerous!"

"The sooner you take me to him, the sooner I'll leave." Aberforth looked from Angela to Armando. Armando shrugged.

"I think she's serious. Perhaps it would be better if we just take her to him." Aberforth huffed before he shrugged.

"Alright, it's your problem. But don't say I didn't warn you! Follow me."

Ooooooooooo

Minerva had followed them down, through long corridors and into the dungeons. 'How cliché,' she had thought. But she said nothing she wanted to see her father. Finally, they had reached their destination. Aberforth pointed to a small cell.

"There. You have two minutes. Use them wisely." That was all he had to say and Minerva was at the cell in two seconds.

"Da'? Are you here?" A cough could be heard and before she knew it, she saw two cold hands grasping at the bars.

"Minerva? Is that you?"

"Da'!" Minerva cried. His voice was incredibly raspy from the cold and his cough, but she could easily recognize it. She had grown up with that voice, and she could recognize it even in her sleep. She grabbed at his hands. "Da', what are you doing in here?"

"Min, what are _you_ doing here? Why have you come?"

"What do you mean? I came here looking for you!"

"You shouldn't have come." Aires coughed heavily into his hand.

"I had to come. I didn't know where you were and I couldn't just leave you alone. That would have been inconceivable." Aires grasped his daughter's hand.

"Listen, Min, you must go, leave this place! Go, run! You are not safe here. There is a horrible beast of a man, and if he finds you here, you are as doomed as I am!"

"No, I refuse to leave you!"

"Minerva, please, this is not the time to be stubborn!"

"I get it from you!" Minerva quipped.

"Minerva-!" But before he could finish his sentence, a giant hand gripped Minerva's shoulder and spun her around.

"Who are you and why are you here!?" Minerva's wand, which she had been using as a light, flew out of her hand and was extinguished.

"Go Minerva go!" cried Aires. But Minerva was rooted to the spot.

"Who's that? Who's there?"

**A/N2: I just wanted to say thank you for reading thus far. I hope you guys enjoyed that extremely dramatic, and extremely LONG, chapter. LOL. Thanks for joining me on this currently unfinished journey. To your left you'll see a few unimportant things, while on your right you'll see the review button. Please press it and go! Thanks for reading and reviewing. Read long and prosper. Always Hopeful**


	6. Prison Swap

Disclaimer: I don't own anything dealing with Harry Potter or Beauty and the Beast

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything dealing with Harry Potter or Beauty and the Beast. Never.**

**A/N: I thank you all for your reviews and for your extreme patience. And I mean it! I wish I could update more often, but what can I say? I'm a busy woman! LOL! But remember, patience is a virtue. I hope that you guys find this chapter well worth the effort. Well, here w go.**

**Chapter Six: Prison Swap…**

"Who's here?" What do you want?" Minerva felt her heart begin to beat in her throat. If she wasn't careful, she could very easily show her fear, and if there was one thing she ever learned from her father it was to not let your enemy see your fear. Well, with her father a foot behind her, she knew she couldn't let him down. Oh, why did she drop her wand? That was a foolish thing to do.

"I could ask you the same thing!" That voice sent chills up and down Minerva's spine. This only made her resolve to appear strong increase. Straightening her back and squaring her shoulders, she mentally prepared herself for what might happen. How bad can it be anyway, right?

"My name is Minerva McGonagall and I have come for my father."

"He is my prisoner!" The voice had moved, causing Minerva to grow rather irritated. She should be scared, but she wasn't. Perhaps she was too scared to truly realize how scared she was. Perhaps she was really, truly not scared. Either way, she was in too deep to back out now.

"He is no prisoner! He's my father and I am not leaving here without him!"

"I told you, he is my prisoner." Again, he had moved. This constant moving was beginning to make Minerva feel dizzy because she was trying hard to follow it. She twisted about and tried frantically to follow him. But how can you follow something if you can't see it?

"What was his crime? On what grounds do you claim him as a prisoner?" Minerva hated that she never saw the captor's face and that she didn't know where he was. She was having a very hard time trying to confront him someone she had never seen.

"He's a trespasser on Hogwarts grounds, as are you." Would this man stop bloody moving? He was causing Minerva to suffer from a serious bout of dizziness as she tried desperately to pinpoint where the voice was coming from.

"Well, if I'm a trespasser, why not arrest me as well?"

"No. Minerva! That would prove nothing!" Aires cried. He reached out for his daughter, but felt nothing. If only he could get to his bloody wand. He could kill the ruddy beast for taking his wand.

"One prisoner is enough for now!" Albus snarled.

"Then take me and release my father!" At those words, everything seemed to stop. A hush fell upon the small room. There seemed to be a sense of stilled movement, as though the man responsible for her father's imprisonment had stopped his movements long enough to consider her words. Minerva waited with bated breath for his response. At last, it came.

"You would take his place?" Albus was flabbergasted. For even though he knew what kindness was, and although he vaguely remembered a time when he, himself, was kind, his mind was now in a sort of a fog, clouding his own judgement and making it harder and harder for him to remember what kindness was. He felt an odd twinge in his heart. "You would willingly buy his freedom by forfeiting your own?" Minerva hesitated before she answered.

"Let me see your face first," she demanded.

"Why?" Albus demanded defensively. "Would that change your answer?"

"Absolutely not!" hissed Minerva. "But if I am to be kept here as your prisoner, then at least have the decency to show me the face of my captor."

"No, Minerva, you can't do this!" her father shouted. He wanted to say something else, but something happened. A spell was cast upon him so he could not speak. There was silence. Then…

"If I allow you to stay, will you give me your word that you will stay here with me for the rest of your life?" Minerva frowned. Why was her promise so important to him? Was he deformed? Was he a half breed, scared that she would not accept him for who or what he was? For a brief moment, Minerva felt a small pang of sorrow for the man, if he was a man. But her sympathy fled just as quickly as it had come when she remembered where she was and the reason she was bargaining with the mysterious man with an unknown face.

"Well?" he demanded. Minerva jumped. She was so lost in thought, she had forgotten to respond.

"You have my word that if you let my father go free, I will stay here with you."

"Forever?" he snarled. Minerva slowly nodded.

"Forever," she agreed. Aires McGonagall felt tears stream from his eyes as he watched his only child sell herself to a horrible creature in return for his freedom. He wanted to say something-anything. He wanted to shout out at the top of his lungs and tell her she was being a bloody fool. Yet, for all his silent wishing, he knew that he couldn't. The bloody spell was forcing him to remain quiet; and Minerva was just out of his reach, so he could not pull on her robes to bring her out of this insanity she was experiencing.

"It's a deal." There was a swishing sound near her ear and she felt the presence stop before her. "Let us be civil and shake on this agreement."

"But wait! You have not yet shown me your face." There was another pause, and for a moment, she thought he would back out. "When I see your face, I will shake your hand."

"When you shake my hand, I will show you my face." This infuriated Minerva for many reasons. Why should he be the only one to set the terms? Why did she have to follow his rules? She was already giving up her life, what more did she have to give up? But the main reason she was angry was because she was so unused to not having control of any situation that the fact that she had no control now scared her to death. Reluctantly, she held out her hand.

"You have a deal," she confirmed. After yet another moment's pause, her hand came in contact with something cold, clammy, and… furry? Minerva's heart jumped into her throat and she tried to pull away. She was in no way refusing the deal; she was just surprised at what she felt. The grip tightened.

"Do not go back on your word, now," the voice threatened.

"No, I will not," Minerva assured. "I have never gone back on my word before and I have no intention of doing so now."

"Nor do I," he replied. "I made a deal with you as well. You may now see my face." Minerva's throat constricted. She almost told him that she changed her mind and didn't want to see his face. Perhaps her imprisonment would be much easier if she didn't know what her captors face looked like. However, something kept her from speaking. She wasn't sure why. Perhaps she was more curious than she had originally thought.

Slowly-oh , ever so slowly- the lights around them began to come back on. She was able to see the room she had entered. It seemed as though she had been in this room forever, even though it could not have been more than five minutes, at the very most. But all thoughts of everything- time, place, space- seemed to fade away when her eyes fell upon the creature standing in front of her. There was what seemed to be half man, half monster staring back at her. Minerva wasn't even sure what species the monster came from. She had never come across it in all her studies, both as a student or as a traveler. He seemed to have the basic structure of a man with al the hair and primitive manner of a beast. And yet, for all this, the one feature he had, which commanded her full attention, were his piercing blue eyes. Those eyes of his were the bluest eyes she had ever seen. She hd always loved blue, though she usually wore green for her father's sake. He had told her that green robes brought out her green eyes.

Minerva was brought back to reality when she realized the creature was staring at her rather intently. A little too intently, if you asked her. His hand tightened even more around hers, making it impossible for her to pull free form his vice-like grip.

"Our deal is set," he said gruffly. "You are my prisoner now and your father is free to go." He released her and waved his hand so that the door to Aires' cell flew open and Aires was flung out, the spell on his voice released. When he was able to sit up, he reached frantically for his daughter, who knelt beside him. He grabbed onto her.

"Minerva, this is the worst thing you could do. He's cold, he's heartless, and he's a machine. Take the deal back! Take it back!" Minerva's bottom lip quivered.

"I will not," she said. Her voice cracked. "If I can't take care of you, then I want you to at least be free."

"It's too late, anyhow," the beast growled. "We made a deal. Aberforth!" Just then, Aberforth rushed in, ready to do the beast's bidding. He hated acting like a slave, or a house elf, but he knew that he should for the sake of everyone there.

"Yes, Albus?" he asked. Minerva's breath caught. The beast was actually Albus Dumbledore. That was impossible. Albus Dumbledore was dead. Wasn't he? He had died fighting Grindlewald. Hadn't he? At least, she thought he had.

"Take this gentleman to town and erase any memories he has of Hogwarts and his daughter!"

"All memories?" Aberforth whimpered. Albus growled.

"Yes, ALL!" he shouted. "I don't want him coming back!" Quickly, Aberforth grabbed Aires and began to drag him away.

"Take it back! Take it back!" Aires shouted to Albus as he kicked and screamed and struggled against Aberforth. "I implore you, take it back!"

"She's none of your concern now!" Albus shouted. Unable to stand it any longer, Minerva followed her father a few feet until Angela stopped her.

"Albus won't let you go any further," she informed Minerva in a sad whisper. Minerva looked at her for a second or two before she collapsed against the older woman. Tears fell from her eyes as the thought of never seeing her father again finally sank in. Albus watched this scene from where he stood near the cell and he began to feel something he hadn't felt in months… guilt. He actually felt a pang of guilt. A part of him- a very distant part- fought to hold on to that feeling. It was that distant part of him which knew what it was to be human; the part of him that wanted to remember what it was to be human.

Unfortunately, that small amount of humanity did not last for very long. Due to the spell, he was constantly losing what had made him a humanist to begin with. The brief pang of guilt he had felt had disappeared almost as suddenly as it had come. Armando stood beside him and stared at Minerva.

"You know? As much as I dislike the situation at hand, this may turn out for the better." Albus hesitated before he asked his first question.

"How could this possibly turn out for the better?" he asked. Armando smiled inwardly. He could sense that Albus was slowly but surely coming back to his senses. His latest bout of anger had subsided. At least, it was starting to subside. He just needed to remain calm so that he would not return to his beastie state long enough to send the girl home. She was in danger. At least, that was his original hope. Now, Armando could not help but wonder if this young lady might not be the one to break the spell? He said as much to Albus. Albus merely rolled his eyes.

"She's not the one," he mumbled. Then he sighed. "What should I do?"

"Well," said Armando, looking at the weeping woman. "Perhaps you could show her to a more comfortable room. I am certain the room which used to be the Transfiguration professor's quarters will be warm enough." Albus grunted.

"My old rooms?" he asked. Armando shrugged as they finally looked at each other.

"You're not using them anymore, remember? During your last… episode… you took over the headmaster's office, meaning my office, so that I had to retire to your old rooms. I will simply allow Miss McGonagall to take that room and remove myself to another set of rooms." Albus slowly nodded as he looked at the young woman again.

"I suppose you're right," he said. They stood there for a few moments before Albus cleared his throat. "So, what do we do now?" Armando groaned inwardly as he looked at Albus.

"You could start with showing her to her new rooms," he suggested. If you could see beneath his fur, you would see Albus blushing. He quickly walked up to Minerva, who was just beginning to regain her composure, and began to tell her. But the moment he saw her tears, he was at a loss for words. She was wiping them away as best she could, but it proved to be futile. Angela handed her a handkerchief, and while Minerva was wiping her tears away, Angela motioned for Albus to say something. Albus cleared his throat.

"Erm… Come on, let me show you to your room?" he commanded. He began to walk down the hallway.

"I thought I was staying here, in this cell." Albus stopped and clenched his teeth. His anger was flaring up again, although he did not know why. Why should he be so angry? He turned and stared at her.

"Do you want to stay here?" he snarled. "Fine, stay here in the cell. I won't lose any sleep at night." He turned and continued to walk down the hall. Minerva looked at Angela, who gestured for her to follow him. Minerva obeyed, only because she did not know what else to do.

Ooooooooooo

"I am going back there, and I will fight for my daughter, if it's the last thing I do!" Aires had not stopped making threats since Aberforth had begun pulling him out of the castle. They were currently at the apparation point now, just outside the Forbidden Forrest.

"So you have said… repeatedly," Aberforth sighed. He was really getting frustrated with the chatterbox behind him. He wanted nothing more than to yell his head off.

"I will not stop until she is set free!" he hissed.

"Okay, just stop it!" Aberforth turned around and stared at him. "Look, I will send you on your way, WITH your memory, if you promise to JUST STOP TALKING!" Aires thought about it.

"Do I have your word?" he asked. Aberforth nodded.

"Oh, and you cannot come back… Ever…" he added. Aires frowned.

"Well, I don't like it, but for now, I suppose I'll have to agree if I want to keep my memories of my daughter." He held out his hand and Aberforth shook it.

"Now, please stop talking!" hissed Aberforth. He turned and started walking the final few yards left to the apparation point. A few feet into it, Aires thought of something.

"You were going to let me keep my memory before you made me agree to that, weren't you?"

"Yes, now be quiet!"

Ooooooooooo

Minerva walked sorrowfully behind Albus, her sorrow seeming to grow by the minute. Just when she thought she could not be any more sorrowful, she would be surprised and grow even more depressed. Try as she might, she just could not see the good in her situation. Even with the thought that she was doing the best thing for her father, she could not feel happy about the fact that he would not be able to remember her tomorrow. He would merely wake up in the morning and go on about his normal day as if nothing had happened.

Albus looked over his shoulder and stared at the poor creature following him. She was a rather beautiful young woman, if only she would smile more. He mentally shook himself. Of course she wouldn't smile. She was now his prisoner. She had no reason to smile. Perhaps he should say something.

"Well, uh, I hope you enjoy yourself during your stay here," he said. What? What was that? That was not the smartest thing he ever said. Quick, Albus old boy, say something else. "I don't want you to feel as though you really _are_ a prisoner, so you can go anywhere you want in this entire castle. Except, of course, the Astronomy Tower. That is off limits to everyone, so don't feel as though you're the only one not allowed there." Minerva nodded and tried to leave it at that, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"Why can't I go into the Astronomy Tower?" she inquired. "I love stars."

"It's off limits!" Albus hissed, turning on her. "There are things there that you don't need to know about, and those things are in the Astronomy Tower. If I catch you there, I will show no mercy in the punishment." He turned around again and continued his walk towards the Transfiguration bedroom. All the while, Minerva was praying that the walk would not last longer. She felt as though she were walking towards her doom.

When they reached her bedroom, he opened the door for her. That was a very gentlemanly thing to do for a man with more hair than Rapunzel. She entered and thanked him.

"You're welcome," he said. Then, he thought of something. "Come to dinner?" He did not know why he offered this impromptu request, but it was too late for him to take it back now.

"No, thank you," she replied.

"Well, I will set a place for you, regardless," he replied. With that, he closed her door and left her alone. He needed to sort out everything that happened, and in order to do that, he needed to go to the one place he knew he would not be disturbed… the Astronomy Tower.

Minerva removed her cloak and laid it upon her bed. She saw a window and walked over to it, staring out into the world that she would no longer be able to venture out into. All those dreams she had for her future; her hopes and wants; everything was gone. And for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to do something she hadn't done in a long time. She curled up into a ball, as tight as she could, and cried so hard that she cried herself to sleep.

**A/N2: Well, sorry for the rushed ending, but I'm strapped for time here. Sorry for it, but I am very, very pressured for other things. So this is as good as it's gonna get. Love you guys. Always Hopeful**


	7. In at the Inn

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything dealing with Harry Potter and I don't think that I ever will…**

**A/N: Okay, so I just finished a chapter to A Happily Ever After and I was on a writing spree. And I forgot to mention in that chapter that I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas. I got an I-pod and it's been helping me write. You can all thank my sister Nikki for that. Ha-ha. Well I hope you enjoy this next chapter… Enjoy!**

**Chapter Seven: In at the Inn…**

Tom sat in his favorite chair and the Galloping Ghosts. He needed to brood in his anger, and he did not wish to be disturbed. In fact, the last thing he wanted to do was to talk to someone; especially if that someone had been at the almost wedding earlier. He did not need someone to be there who had been a witness to his utter humiliation. Minerva had turned him down flat, and he hated the fact that she had done it so openly. No one had ever done that to him, especially a woman. Though he would never admit to it, that was part of her appeal to him. Although he was absolutely angry about what she had done, and although he wanted to punch through something because of it, he had found it absolutely fascinating that she did not swoon so easily. Don't misunderstand by any means. This was a horrible blow to his incredibly fragile ego. However, the chase made her all the more exciting to him. He was a hunter, and always would be. It was always about the chase for him. He had dated almost all the other young women in town, so Minerva was the next logical girl. When she refused him the first several times, he decided he needed to court her and win heart.

Unfortunately, he had not accounted for her stubbornness. Women were not supposed to be stubborn. They were supposed to be obedient and… not stubborn. But Minerva was just as stubborn as he was and he wasn't sure he liked it so much. If she was this hard to win over, then he couldn't imagine how difficult she might be once they were actually married. These were the thoughts which went through his mind as he sat there, staring at his mug of fire whiskey, and ignoring everything that was going on around him. He had tried to clear his head of everything that happened to him today. He had tried to pass it off as a fluke or as a bad dream. And yet, he could not help but think about it. What was going through Minerva's mind? He was sure that a proposal would have won her over for certain. Women liked to be proposed to, didn't they? Women were always talking about the day they would be asked to marry someone. At least, that's what he always heard when he heard women talking. It seemed to him that all women wanted was to be married and have a lot of children, which was good on his part because he wanted to have the same thing. So why did Minerva have to be so different? So difficult? It just didn't make any sense to him at all.

"There you are, Tom." Tom cringed as his lackey patted his shoulder and sat next to him. He was not in the mood to have any company.

"What do you want?" he asked angrily, his lip curling in a snarl.

"Only to assure that you are doing well, Tom," Peter whimpered, hoping to gain respect from the man he looked to as a hero of sorts. For so long he had wanted to be exactly like Tom Riddle. He wanted to be suave, debonair, and smooth with the ladies, just like Tom was. He wanted to have ladies swoon over him, and he wanted a lackey of his very own as well. So he followed Tom around, hoping to learn everything he could from him. Tom shot him an icy stare.

"Does it look as though I'm doing well?" he growled. Peter winced.

"No, of course not, sire," he said. He found that whenever Tom was feeling bad about himself, he should resort to calling him 'sir' to help rebuild his ego or confidence. "I-I-I just th-th-thought that…"

"Oh, would you stop stammering, you blundering fool!" Tom hissed, knocking the drink out of Peter's hand which had been intended for him. "Can't you see that I'm feeling horrible enough without having to listen in on your stammering, jabbering nonsense?" He folded his arms and grumbled, perfectly content not to acknowledge Peter's existence. He might have succeeded too, if Peter had not been trying so hard to get back into Tom's good graces.

"You know, Tom, I think you are wearing her down. I am sure she will come around any day now." He smiled, hoping to reassure Tom. But Tom only glared at him.

"Oh you do, do you?" he snarled. "And what makes you so sure? Was it the wonderful way she accepted my gracious proposal of marriage? Or, perhaps it is because of the way she practically threw me out of her house that makes it clear that I'm wearing her down. Which do you think it is?" Peter's face paled.

"Well, uh-," he stammered.

"Well, uh, gee, I, um…" Peter threw a handful of peanuts at Peter. "Stop talking to me." He needed to rest, so folded his arms on the table and laid his head on them. Peter looked up, down, to the left, to the right, and nodded.

"Yes, well, I guess you should have your time to yourself." He began to stand up, but paused. "I was just thinking that you are not the quitting type, you know?" Tom slowly lifted his head and looked at Peter, murder in his eyes. Yet Peter did not back down. "I mean, you are Tom Riddle. You're every woman's dream. Every man wants to be you, and every woman wants to be with you. Perhaps she's not the one for you?" Tom shot up and snarled.

"What was that?" he growled. Peter laughed a nervous laugh and tried to think of something clever to say. "I will NEVER quit!" He grabbed the front of Peter's shirt.

"Of course not, how silly of me. How could I think that?" Peter babbled. "After all, she will come around eventually, right? I mean, who wouldn't? She would be crazy not to love you!" Sweat was beading down his face as he tried to think of things to say to Tom so that he wouldn't be killed.

"You're right! She _will_ come around and see things my way, and I will challenge _any_ man who thinks otherwise." He backed Peter up against a wall. Peter's face was growing red.

"Of course, sire. I understand perfectly." Peter feared that now there was no way of stopping Tom until the proprietor of the establishment, Frank, came over and placed a hand on Tom's arm.

"Easy now, Tom," he said. "You know I don't likes brawls in 'ere. This 'ere's a respectable establishment and I'll not 'ave you ruinin' its reputation."

"Back off, old man, or I'll take care of you next!" Tom hissed. Frank merely rolled his eyes and forced Tom to lower his hands from Peter's front. This wasn't the first time Tom threatened someone in his 'establishment'. It was almost a weekly ritual for him. Perhaps it was what his therapist cousin would call a 'desperate display to prove his self worth' or something of that nature. Frank never knew much about therapy, but he knew plenty about men and alcohol, and once the two combined, mouths drop open and fists begin to fly.

"If you're gonna be fightin', I suggest you take it outside. I can't afford another indoor fight for at least another month. The cost of chairs and mugs and barrels of alcohol ain't cheap, you know? 'Tain't cheap at all." Tom glared at him.

"He's right," Peter piped in. When Tom turned his icy stare on him, Peter rushed to continue. "Besides, you wouldn't want to bloody those hands on me, would you? And the use of wand magic is prohibited when you've been drinking. Remember what happened to make that law come about?" Tom and Frank nodded, and they all said, in the same tone of voice, "Poor Betsy. May she rest in peace." Tom back away slightly, but looked back at Peter.

"You were lucky, Pettigrew. If you hadn't helped me today, I would have most certainly harmed you, regardless of what happened to Betsy." He turned around and went back to his seat, Peter close behind him.

"You know, Tom, you shouldn't worry about what happened today. She just needs time to think, that's all."

"What's there to think about?" Tom asked arrogantly. "Aren't I the most eligible wizard in all Europe?"

"Well, yes, of course you are-," said Peter.

"And am I not kind, handsome, and generous to a fault?"

"Don't forget humble…" Peter added.

"Well then why would she need to think about my proposal? It doesn't make any sense. _She_ doesn't make any sense." He took a swig of his fire whiskey as Peter tried to think of things to say. He knew that when Tom went into a brood, it could last several days at a time. And a brood never boded well for him because he was at the tail end of Tom's brood. He would like to avoid that if at all possible.

"You know what I think, Tom?" Tom merely grunted as he stared into his mug, the brooding process already beginning. "I think you should ignore her for a day or two."

"What?" Tom snarled as he snapped his head up to stare at Tom. Tom hastened to explain.

"Well, everyone knows women are jealous by nature, right?" Tom just stared at Peter as he tried to grasp at what was being said. "Well, you _are_ the most eligible wizard in Europe, right?"

"Get to the point, Pettigrew," hissed Tom in a most snake-like manner. Peter hurried to reach his point.

"Well if you completely ignore her for a few days, she will begin to wonder what you are doing. And when her curiosity gets the better of her, she will start to look for you, thus bringing her back to town. When she comes into town, she will search for you, even if she may not want to admit it. Imagine her jealousy when she sees another woman on the arm of Tom Marvolo Riddle, the man she could have had?" Slowly but surely the idea began to make sense to Tom, despite his mildly drunken state. Thus, he finished the idea himself.

"Then she will become so overwrought with jealousy that she will practically beg for me to return to her."

"That's it, sire," Peter exclaimed excitedly. Tom jumped to his feet, almost knocking over his chair.

"And I shall be the gracious man and take her back, in spite of her hurtful ways towards myself." Peter stood as well and smiled.

"What a brilliant plan, sire," Peter assured.

"Of course it's a brilliant plan, that's why I came up with it. Now-," Tom was interrupted by the door to the Galloping Ghosts flying open to reveal a frantic Aires McGonagall, hands flailing about him and stammering like a fool.

"Minerva! Castle! Hogwarts! DANGER!!!!!" He was babbling and saying things that didn't make any sense to anyone, and people didn't know what to say. This was out of the ordinary, even for Aires McGonagall. He was usually a gentle, non-yelling sort of man. So to have him running through the Hog's Head, a place he rarely went into, screaming and rambling at the top of his lungs was certainly cause for people to pick up their half drunk selves and take a look.

"What is going on out here?" Frank asked as he came out of the back, a box in his hands. He set it down on the ground as he tried to gage what was going on. Aires rushed up to him and grabbed the front of his shirt, unknowingly mimicking Tom's earlier movements.

"You've got to help me, please!" he cried.

"Well, if I knew what was wrong, I might," Frank said, trying to get Aires to stop. He was successful since Aires quickly removed himself and headed for the next person he could find and did the same thing.

"Minerva! My daughter Minerva! She is gone!" Tom's ears perked up as Aires moved to another man.

"Gone?" he cried. "Gone where?" Aires rushed to him this time.

"Please! She's gone! She's been taken!"

"Taken by whom?" Tom asked. Aires rolled his eyes.

"The beast, of course! The beast who resides in Hogwarts castle!" He rushed to the middle of the room. "The myth is real! Albus Dumbledore is still alive and is living life in Hogwarts as A BIG HORRIBLE BEAST!!!!" There was utter silence for a moment before everyone, including Tom, began to laugh. People were laughing so hard that they were on the floor and tears were coming out of their eyes. Tom and Peter were doubled over in laughter, though not quite on the floor. Aires could not believe what was happening. Why was everyone laughing? This was not a joke! His only child was being held captive in Hogwarts castle and they were all _laughing!_ How could they do that?

"Albus Dumbledore?" one man shouted.

"Alive?" cried another.

"And he's a beast?" hollered a third. The laughter increased, and those who were just recovering from one bout of laughter immediately went into another, grabbing their stomachs as laughter pains hit them. Aires grew enraged.

"How can you all laugh at such a time as this?" he demanded. "My daughter is in horrible, terrible danger, and you are all here, acting as though this is a huge joke!" One man came up behind him and slapped him on the back, an expression of mock concern upon his face.

"Yes, I am sorry, Aires. I hope you can forgive me." Aires latched onto him.

"Oh thank you, whoever you are," he said. "This is serious. We need to get her back." The man cleared his throat.

"Now, this beast. Was he big? Ugly? Did he smell really bad?"

"He's the biggest, ugliest, most horribly smelling beast I've ever seen!" Aires exclaimed, relieved that someone finally saw things his way. Suddenly, the man's jaw dropped and his eyes bugged out of his head. He pointed to a spot behind Aires.

"He's here! The beast is here!" he cried. Aires turned around in fear, only to find that the man was mocking him and was now laughing hysterically. Aires' face flushed and a mixture of anger and embarrassment filled him. He felt ashamed to have ever believed this man, who only thought he was a loon.

"Fine, if none of you will help me, then I will simply have to help myself!" Without another word, he ran out of the tavern, the door slamming behind him. As for those he left in the Galloping Ghosts, there was not a dry eye to be seen. Laughter ran out and it seemed as though it would be the talk of the town for weeks to come. However, there was one person who was not laughing.

Although Tom had found this absolutely amusing, and though he had been laughing in the start, he suddenly became very thoughtful. Now, despite what he had said about Aires in the past, he had always been amused by the older man's antics. He was always amusing to watch. One never knew what he was going to do or say next. And this whole beast thing was certainly one his more amusing antics to date. In fact, he could not recall anything he'd ever done or said that could have trumped this one. Anyone would be hard pressed to beat this in the future.

Then, a sudden idea struck him. It seemed to him as though this little episode of Aires' could actually be used to his advancement. Yes, if he planned things just right, there was no reason why he could not be married to Minerva in a matter of twenty four hours, if not sooner. He suddenly felt a pudgy hand slap him on the back and he was immediately aware of Peter, whom he had quite forgotten in his pondering.

"I tell you, Tom, that man is always a great source for entertainment." Peter laughed and his jelly like belly began to shake with his amusement. Tom smiled.

"You know, Peter, I do believe I have suddenly been struck with a most fascinating idea, indeed." Peter looked at Tom in question. Tom looked at him. "Who knew? For once, that crazy fool has proven to be quite useful to me."

"Tom?" Peter didn't know why, but he didn't feel as though this would end too well for himself. Tom sensed this, and was quick to reassure him.

"Oh, no worries, Peter. This has almost nothing to do with you and everything to do with Aires. What word would you use to describe Aires McGonagall?" Peter thought for a moment.

"Weird?"

"Almost, but let's go a little further, shall we?" There was a pause.

"Troublesome?"

Tom shook his head.

"Insane?"

Tom finally nodded.

"Exactly, my friend," Tom said. "And what do we do with insane people?" Peter gulped. What was the desperate, conniving man before him thinking now?

**A/N2: Okay, I started this last night, but finished it tonight. Sorry. But I was invited to a movie and then I ate and then I lost all inspiration. LOL. Well I hope you guys like this. Read long and prosper. Always Hopeful**


	8. Minerva's First Night

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**A/N: I'M BACK WITCHES AND WIZARDS! LOVE ME! LOVE ME NOW! THE MORE REVIEWS, THE MORE I'M INCLINED TO WRITE!**

**Chapter 8: Minerva's First Night...**

Minerva was beginning to feel a serious rush of cabin fever. She always hated feeling trapped, no matter how long. When she had been a kid, whenever she had behaved badly, which was not very often, she would be sent to her room. That would always feel like the longest hour of her life, because she was confined to one room of the house. She loved the feeling of being free. She enjoyed the feel of grass beneath her feet, the wind through her hair, and a good tree branch under her fingertips. But now, just a few hours into her imprisonment, she began to feel incredibly claustrophobic. The walls were coming in around her, and she could almost feel the air around her crushing her, feeling helpless under the weight. If this was how she felt after just a few hours, how would she feel after a few days? Months? YEARS?

She had to stop thinking like this. She knew that if she continued in this train of thought, she would spiral swiftly into madness, and she would need all her wits about her if she were going to survive living in this castle with Albus Dumbledore. If that WAS Albus Dumbledore. He had changed so horribly compared with the pictures she had seen of him that she could not tell if he really was who he claimed to be.

On the other hand, there were the other people at the castle. _They_ seemed convinced that he was Albus Dumbledore. And if they thought so, then who was she to dispute with them? There was a knock on the door, which brought her out of her ever wandering thoughts.

"Who is it?" She didn't really care. Whomever it was, she would be sending him or her away before the door even opened.

"It's Angela. May I come in?" _Well,_ thought Minerva, _I don't want to be rude. Besides, perhaps it would be good to have another female in this place to talk to._ Despite her initial urge to send the intruder away, she changed her mind.

"Come in."

The door opened and the woman she had met earlier walked in, levitating some clean sheets, fresh towels, and a wash cloth ahead of her. Arthur scampered in behind her, seeming to ride upon her skirt.

"I thought you might like some clean towels and sheets," she said. "This room is so dusty, just like the rest of the castle, that I am afraid things have fallen rather below the usual standards. I never thought I would say this, but I am really beginning to miss the house elves we had here." As she was saying this, Angela was stripping the bed of the sheets and comforter it already had on it. Not wishing to just stand there feeling useless, Minevera decided that she should make herself useful by helping Angela. After all, this was to be her own bed, for the time being; besides, she never liked to be idle. So, she stepped up and began helping Angela.

"What _did_ happen to all the house elves?" she asked, half curious and half wanting to think of something other than her entrapment. Angela sighed.

"After the incident, we thought it best to send everyone at Hogwarts - ghosts, elves, students, teachers – away until something could be done to help Albus." Minerva hesitate, only slightly, before asking her next question.

"If I may ask, what exactly happened to make Professor Dumbledore look the way he is? I mean, from everything that I knew of him before the war ended is that he was a great man, and a wonderful teacher. I never knew exactly what happened."

"You mean you never hear the story?" Angela asked "Arthur, off the bed." While they had been talking, Arthur had climbed onto the already made bed and started jumping on it, as young boys are want to do. Reluctantly, he did as he was told, grumbling about how he never had any fun anymore. Minerva smiled before turning back to Angela.

"I've heard rumors. But I was away with my father when it happened. With the war the way it was, he didn't want me in harms way, so he had taken me out of the country. I wanted to stay and fight, but he didn't want me to. And, since I love my father, I was willing to go with him anywhere he wanted me to go. Especially since I didn't want anything happening to him." Angela smiled,

"I can see you love him very much," she said. Minerva nodded.

"He's all that I have left," she replied. Angela thought for a moment, then decided that it would actually be a good idea for Minerva to know what she had gotten herself into.

"When Grindlewald was at his highest power, Albus knew that he had to do something. He knew that he could no longer sit idly by and watch the people he loved being slaughtered by the thousands. He also knew that the muggles had started noticing something rather unusual, and the last thing he wanted was for the non magic folk to have to suffer for the wrongs of a man in a world that they knew nothing about. So, he decided that he would do anything in his power to get rid of Grindlewald, for the good of the people. Now, this whole time, Grindlewald was keeping his eye on Albus. He knew that Albus was as great a wizard as he was, if not better. But instead of wanting to kill Albus for his talents, he hoped to gain from an alliance. He felt that even though he was already one of the most powerful wizards in the world, he craved more. So, he contacted Albus and asked to meet him on the Battlefield."

"The Battlefield?" Minerva asked.

"It was a giant piece of land that had been desecrated in a heated battle. Knowing what he had to do, Albus decided to meet him. Grindlewald made the offer, and Albus refused. To make a long story short, they both cast spells at the same time. Albus shouted out the killing curse and Grindlewald shouted out the Eliando curse, which..."

"Which causes the affected to grow a black heart," finished Minerva. Angela nodded.

"So you've heard of it?"

"My father loved learning about all sorts of spells. I guess he passed his love for learning to me. But he would never hurt anyone, no matter what the curse was."

It was at this point the Minerva could no longer hold back her tears. She thought she had finished crying, but these tears suddenly came without warning or her wanting them to. She sat on the bed. Angela walked around the bed and sat beside her, placing an arm around her shoulders.

"There, there, Minerva," she said. "No need to cry. I am sure we can work something out. I know things look helpless now, but there is still hope."

"I don't see how," sniffed Minerva. "After all, if what you say is true, then Albus should be getting worse, if the curse is anything like what I have read about. If he won't show mercy now, then he most certainly won't show me mercy once he gets worse. And I can't think of a way that he might be cured."

Angela bit her tongue. If Minerva had read about this spell, then she should know that there was a cure. But, perhaps she had not gotten far enough to learn of this cure. For a brief moment, she thought of telling her. Instead., she kept her mouth shut. Telling Minerva might prove to be a hindrance rather than anything that might be of help to her.

"Chin up, dear," she said. "I have a feeling things will look up for you, and much sooner than you might expect." With a final pat to the back, Angela stood up. "Well, I must go now. I need to speak with Aberforth and Armando about dinner for tonight. Let's go, Arthrur." The boy had been by the dresser and quickly pulled his hand back from a jar of night cream that had been been placed there, even though Minerva didn't know whose it was.

"NOTHING!" he exclaimed, almost in a knee jerk response. Angela quirked a brow.

"I didn't ask what you were doing," she said as she walked to him.

"Oh," he said guiltily, turning a bright shade of red.

"Let's go," Angela said, grabbing his hand.

"But I didn't do it," he said as Angela began to drag him out of the room.

"Then why do you look so guilty?" Angela asked.

"That's how I always look, Mama. That's my face. You said so yourself."

That was the last Minerva heard of the mother and son as the door shut behind them. She laughed in spite of herself. Who would have thought that one could find a hint of humor in a place as dark and gloomy as the Hogwarts castle?

Albus woke, feeling extremely groggy. He blinked several times, then rubbed them rather roughly when blinking proved to be almost completely futile. He stretched, feeling incredibly stiff. Finally, he opened his eyes and saw Aberforth staring out the window and Armando dozing off in an armchair, a book resting on his lap (it looked like it was going to fall off), and a fire in the fireplace.

"How long was it this time?" he asked rather hoarsely. Aberforth turned to look at him, then turned back around. Armando's head shot up slightly, a snort coming from his nose. He looked, to Albus, as though he had lost some sleep. Despite his red eyes, he smiled at Albus.

"You're up," he said. He stood and walked to him. He grabbed Albus' wrist and checked his pulse on a pocket watch.

"How long?" asked Albus. Even though he was able to remember most of what happened, he was never able to recall time while the spell was affecting his heart. For some reason, there were times when he felt as though years had gone by, and other times, he felt as though it had gone from day to night within a matter of seconds.

"Several days now," Armando replied, replacing his pocket watch into the folds of his robes once more. "We thought you might come out of it a while ago, but then that man showed up and... Well..." Albus groaned as he rubbed his face.

"The girl..." he moaned. He stared at Armando. "How is she?"

"A lot better, now that there is an entire castle between the two of you," Aberforth commented. Armando glared at him.

"You are not helping, Aberforth," he said. "I am sure Albus feels bad enough as it is, without you adding your insensitive comments." Aberforth turned on his heel.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not feeling very much in the mood to be supportive. We've got a frightened girl in the opposite wing, who misses her father. Now, if you ask me..."

"We didn't," replied Armando. Aberforth walked towards Armando so that they were now toe to toe.

"Well I'm going to give you my opinion anyway," he said. "I think we should send that girl away before anything horrible happens to her. Now that Albus is back, at least for the time being, he should go to her, apologize, and release her. This way, he can save her any further irritation."

"I agree," said Albus.

"Well, I don't," replied Armando. The other two men stared at him, completely shell shocked.

"Are you barking mad?" asked Aberforth. "We can't, in good conscious, keep her here, especially against her will."

"And if we let her go, then this spell might never be lifted." Aberforth and Albus looked at each other.

"Armando, I don't think this is a good idea," said Albus. "After all, tricking a girl to stay here in the hopes of convincing her to break a spell that she has nothing to do with is a rotten thing to do."

"That it is, my friend," agreed Armando. "But, until we find another way, we have no alternative." Albus was silent.

"It makes great sense, but I don't feel right doing it," he said finally. "We must either find another way, or you must face the only other choice we have."

"No!" growled Armando, sounding very much like a beast himself. His features softened when he saw the worried look on his friend's face. "No, we can't do that. I will not let you just fade into obscurity, alone and a victim to this terrible curse. You are much too good a person to let that happen to. And if you think any different, then I will just have to stay with you until such a time that you perish." Albus' heart soared as he heard this passionate speech of his closest and truest friend. He could barely believe that he had such a wonderful friend by his side.

"Thank you, Armando," he said. "You are truly a treasure among friends." Aberforth huffed and threw his arms up in the air.

"This is such rot and rubbish," he grumbled. "Fine, do as you will, but I want no part of it. There is no way that I want to take any credit for the destruction of a young woman's life. We are men, not kidnappers." With that, he walked back to the window, hoping the find some way of convincing the others that this was an absolutely horrible idea. "I should find Angela. I'm sure SHE'D find something wrong with this plan of yours."

As if by cue, Angela opened the door to the infirmary and made her entrance, dragging Arthur behind her.

"Honest, Mama, I didn't do anything."

"Hush, Arthur," she said, smacking him upside his head. "And if you continue to cry in that manner, you'll feel the back of my hairbrush on your hide." Arthur covered his mouth to keep himself from speaking anymore. He knew that he would never keep his mouth shut unless he kept his mouth covered with his own hand, a little reminder to himself that he should stop speaking.

"How is she?" Armando asked.

"She is alright, but not great, as you can imagine," she said. "But what's more, she knows what the Eliando curse is."

"Well, that's convenient," said Armando.

"Not quite," she said. "She doesn't know of the cure for it." Armando sighed.

"Well, I am sure if she did, she would never believe it," huffed Aberforth. "True love's kiss. It sounds like a bloody fairy tale. Something that some bleeding fairy tale author would create."

"Well, aren't you just Mr. Sunshine?" mocked Angela.

"Maybe we _should_ let her go," said Albus.

"Finally, some sense," growled Aberforth. "We don't need a casualty on our hands."

"I think she should stay," said Angela.

"What? Are you crazy?" cried Aberforth. "Has the entire world gone mad?

"Here me out," said Angela. "If Albus can keep himself under control, perhaps Minerva can find the man beneath the beast. After all, Albus is such a great person. Perhaps she'll grow to love him. It's worth a shot."

"Yes, and maybe I'll marry a centaur and we will go skipping into the sunset, riding a goat." Aberforth rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I'm getting out of here. I'll be at the Hog's Head if anyone needs me." With that, he stormed out of the hospital wing, muttering to himself the whole way.

"Well, Albus," said Armando, turning to Albus. "What do you think?"

Albus thought about this for a moment. What should he do? What should he say? What _could_ he say? Risk her life or risk everyone else?

**A/N2: BUM BUM BUUUUUUUUM! For Albus to keep her prisoner, press one. For Albus to let her go, press two. But you must do this before I explode. I will self destruct in BOOM! ~Always Hopeful~**


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